Interspecies Relationship Support Network: Tri-Burrows Chapter
by Gabriel LaVedier
Summary: The Tri-Burrows may not be a sweeping metropolitan bastion of culture but folks out there still need things, like an organization for folks that love outside their taxonomic category. To that end they've brought the Zootopian network to the Tri-Burrows. Of course... some mammals might not be very happy about that... A Murder, She Wrote style tale of an ever more worldly small town.
1. Growing Pains

I do not own Zootopia, that belongs to Disney. This a fan work made solely for the sake of amusement.

 **Interspecies Relationship Support Network- Tri-Burrow Chapter**

 **Chapter One: Growing Pains**

 **By: Gabriel LaVedier**

"Well folks, that's the meetin'. Thanks for comin' and we'll see y'all next week," Gideon Ovine said, quite a bit louder than was his usual. But his voice needed to carry from his back storage room, into the kitchen and his front room. The whole place was thick with mammals of many sizes and species, all of them composed of couples, and those couples composed of different species.

A lot of rabbits were in evidence, though no Hopps family rabbits were seen. Those rabbits consorted with a motley mix of other prey, like beavers and sheep, as well as predators and technical predators like raccoons, possums and even a skunk. Bobby Catmull, local event DJ and music store owner, was there with his fiancee, a mule deer. Jaguar Manchas was snuggled up to Doctor Arctos, the grizzly bear that was Bunnyburrow's primary physician.

It took a while for everyone to file out of the bakery, which only just barely seemed capable of holding all of them, standing, with some being carried.

"Well, we do enjoy being cozy together," Jaguar quipped, slowly nuzzling into Dr. Arctos' neck.

"Yes, well, I prefer it when you're the only warm body pressing into my side," she replied, effortlessly carrying Jaguar out of the shop.

"Oh, Ursula, you need to get close to your neighbors, especially if they love differently, like we do," Jaguar said in return.

"We're very boring, liebchen. We're not Outsiders, we're only ordinary lovers outside our species. It takes courage to be like Mr. Catmull or Mr. Demilop. His wife is a Division Child, that's something very bold," Ursula noted.

"Yes, cariñito, but we aren't cowards. We're here."

"That doesn't mean they're cowards," Bobby cut in. "They might just be busy. Thomas and Nancy are working hard down on the farm. Rose and Simon have been busy with wedding planning. Plus... it's been such a tight fit here or at your office that some folk prefer not to come."

"My partner is a nice mammal but why don't we go to his family farm? He's a Dreyson now, and they have much land."

"Active farmland, with a lot of groves that just don't have much space. And the main house is **just** sized for me. Gideon and Sharla hang out outside when they visit. It would be a tight squeeze if they went inside," Travis Dreyson said, overhearing his partner's conversation. "Plus Big Daddy has his paws full getting my brothers-in-law married off. He doesn't need attached folks around messing up his plans to have nice ladies over to see if they can bear their rambunctious attitudes."

"There must be something that can be done," Ursula said. "A group like this is needed and should be able to help all of its members."

"They got it easier in Zootopia," Gideon said, walking out beside Sharla. "Every District's got their own chapter, maybe more'n one, and they got nice, big buildings. We could rent out the Granger Hall but that gets inta bucks."

"Took a lot of razzle-dazzle to get them to open a chapter out here and only by taking the whole Tri-Burrows as the chapter location. They think out in the sticks we don't have a lot of folks like us."

"Now Travis, it was because we ain't got that many mammals out here," Gideon corrected "You saw how many mammals they got packed inta all them districts."

"I know, I know! I went to school in Zootopia," Travis grumbled.

"You could fit the Tri-Burrows into a corner of the city and have room for the rest of the countryside," Sharla said. "I had almost forgotten when we went back for Judy's wedding. I came back here willingly because I just can't keep up with a place that big. But... I still think we need big city things like the internet and a network like this."

"But we need big city space ta go along with it," Gideon said.

"We should have our own space. Someplace nice, a little private," Ermintrude offered. "We can use it for a personal space and for the network, and not have to keep paying over and over and put up permanent decorations."

"Being able to have a setup that's ours alone, that we can decorate it like we want, have it be ours completely, that's convenient, and we won't have to keep paying the fees over and over," Travis mused.

"But even if we got the bucks together, and I ain't sayin' we can't... we ain't poor thicket-trash, we jes ain't..." Gideon said, voice trialing off.

Sharla softly hugged Gideon to her side and stroked his tail slowly. "Even if we could get the money together, how do we find a good piece of property?"

"Where's Pepper O'Pogo?" Travis asked. "She's a real estate agent. She sold me and Jaguar our office space, and homes."

"Our home," Ermintrude said in an insistent voice. "Part time. We still live at the homestead. Big Daddy likes having his family close."

"She and Zeke didn't make it this week. Probably because of what we were just saying," Sharla said, looking though a clipboard with a roll sheet.

"If we want a strong network with folk coming around to have meetings and enjoy each others company we need space, and if there's space Pepper should know," Jaguar said.

"I have free time at lunch, I could pop over to the office, see if Zeke is in. Is Pepper still going Vesper and Night shifts?" Travis asked.

"Not since the Lago family moved to Podunk. There was little enough reason to do it even then. We're just not nocturnally inclined here," Jaguar noted.

"With all the rabbits ya'd think there'd be call fer Matin and Vesper service but all my best business comes straight at noon, Matin/Day crossover time. Works fer me, leastways I know when to stock the most pastry," Gideon explained.

"Pepper'll be in the office, then. Good. Jaguar, do you mind covering at noon?" Travis asked.

"No problem, amigo. If you get more space for us it will be worth double work for one day," Jaguar said with a thumbs up.

"Assuming someone comes in. Otherwise it's double nothing," Travis chuckled.

Jaguar grumbled lightly as everyone around him laughed.

o o o

The next day, near to about twelve-thirty, Travis made his way into the **Bunnyburrow Real Estate Company** office, which was just down the street on the place's 'main drag' after he had stopped off at **Attie and Martin Marten's Fish and Chips** for a walking lunch.

He tossed the paper from the meal into the trash can near the office before entering it. "Hey all, who's free?"

Though the office was relatively small, mostly a few low cubicles at the front with a big walled-off area in the back where more proper offices and storage was, it was hard to tell if anyone was in. The whole thing tried hard to be just like a suburban office, with bland carpet, fuzzy beige walls on the cubicles, and all the furniture being metal and plastic standard office furniture in the standard sizes.

Several heads popped up from the cubicles, mostly looking like folks seeking property. At one of the smaller, lower cubicles the figure was the unmistakable and unique Pepper O'Pogo, with her dark gray coat freely flecked with spots of black. The opossum agent smiled happily and waved Travis over.

"Well isn't this just your lucky day? I'm here to help you out again. Don't tell me you and the missus are finally going to stay at the old Dreyson manor for good, that's some good property over your shop. I'd hate to get into the hassle of renting it to someone else. It just works out better for everyone," Pepper said with her usual ever-cheerful rapidity.

It took Travis' head a moment to stop spinning from the dizzying rush of cheer and chatter. "Uh, no, no Pep, we're keeping the top floor and doing Sundas, Frededas and Moondas at the manor so everyone can go to church. And we have Frededas to ourselves."

Pepper laughed heartily and bade Travis sit down on the medium chair in her cubicle. The walls had been mostly covered in tacked-up comic strips, cute calendar pages and photos of the possum with many other mammals, all having a good time. She sat back down behind her desk and started typing away at her somewhat outdated but colorful pink Carrot computer. "So if you're not selling, what are you looking to buy? Oh! Is this it? Is Big Daddy Dreyson giving you the bucks to start he newest Dreyson orchard? I hope you two are ready for that. You put in the work and you can be the next Big Daddy Dreyson for your family line."

Before he could answer a somewhat sullen-looking rabbit buck in a blue jumpsuit shuffled into the cubicle and took out the small trash can, dumping the contents out into the larger can on a janitorial cart. "Need anything cleaned or repaired today, Mrs. O'Pogo?"

"Not today, Rob, but thank you kindly for asking," Pepper chirped, pleasantly.

Rob nodded his head in response and moved down the line.

Travis chuckled once the exchange was over. "I see you got your own Hopps rabbit."

"Plenty of 'em to go around and they all need jobs when the farm isn't in need.," Pepper noted.

"We've got one down at the office. Kenneth. He is a chipper little charmer. He reminds me of someone..."

Pepper snorted with the force of her sudden, short laugh. "Well, guilty as charged. But I should ask the proper question. What is it that I, a humble representative of this establishment, can do for you, good property-buyer?"

"Well, as you and Zeke probably noticed, the Support Network meetings are getting... tight. The central Network folks can't really do much, we're new and very out there. It's starting to affect us. We're trying to accommodate three Burrows worth of interspecies couples. Sure, it's mostly the Bunnyburrow crowd, but some folks do come from Squirrelburrow and Predburrow. And they need this. They need to know they're not alone, that there are others just like them. It's important."

Pepper nodded, looking somewhat sad about the whole matter. "I know. And... I'm sorry Zeke and I weren't there. But it's hard for him, with all the tight space and all. Maybe we also don't really think of what the Network really does. Sure, we may be super comfortable with ourselves, but the Network is there for other folks. And we're there to show 'em just how happy you can be when you let go of fear and just get cozy."

"Big Daddy likes to say, you don't get the juiciest peach without going out on a limb. Momma Dreyson usually adds that she went after him. Then it sort of devolves into a lot of mush I wish the silver glow could wash out of my eyes. It's true, though. I risked things for Ermintrude, too. It's why Big Daddy respects me. We help folks go out on that limb. I think I was only so bold because of Gideon and Sharla, not to mention Judy and Nick breaking the final barrier. It's why I'm an actual Dreyson, though I don't doubt Ermintrude would have hauled me down before the head Fiffarah had I been reluctant to call up the lead Convoker for a wedding."

"It would be nice to have a proper place to get together, to help those poor creatures in need. I'd sure love being active and involved and so would... Zeke!" Pepper raised a paw and waved happily at someone behind Travis.

Travis turned to look upon a true titan of lapine kind. He lacked the stout girth of his cousin Bongo in general, though his notorious love of berries and carrots in all manner of foods kept him bottom-heavy. He was still easily a head taller than most other rabbits, all covered in soft gray fur and a light cream front, his hanging, enormous ears tipped in dark chocolate brown. He was dressed in gray slacks that fit well enough for his purposes and a white short-sleeve shirt cinched at the neck with a carrot-print tie. He had a huge paper bag in one paw, that radiated a slight aroma of fish, along with a cardboard drink coaster.

The bottom-heaviness made his gait a little sashay-ish, something he couldn't help, but which he also didn't try to stop. He made his way past Rob, looking apologetic as he squeezed past and noted the nose wrinkle from the fish smell, entering Pepper's cubicle and leaning in to give her a warm kiss on the lips, that moved into something slightly below snogging, but only just slightly.

Travis politely cleared his throat to get the kiss to break up. "Ahh, got yourself and Pep some lunch, Mr. O'Pogo?"

"That Mrs. Marten is so sweet, and Mr. Marten made sure I got extra blueberries in my smoothie," Zeke said with a bright smile. He pulled a paper-wrapped bundle that radiated heat and the smell of fish. "Mrs. Marten says it's trout today."

"Awww barleycorn, I like anything. And you're so sweet to go get it. Not a lot of bunnies like the smell of fish," Pepper cooed.

Zeke looked at Rob as he sullenly made his way along. "I know it. But it's a great place. I keep trying to talk Martin and Attie into joining the Network but they really don't want to make a big fuss. They were fine with getting married but they had that tiny ceremony."

"Maybe this will help. Travis and the rest of the Network want to buy some property they can use as a proper meeting place. Then we won't be so packed in all the time," Pepper said, opening up her paper packet of fried fish and potatoes, squirting lemon juice all over it before she took a healthy bite. She fanned her mouth and breathed quickly, chomping her mouthful rapidly and swallowing as quickly as she could. "Bounteous blessings! Attie must have just yanked that out of the fryer!"

"I wanted them nice and hot for you, honey. Sorry..." Zeke had his own meal of fried vegetables cooling on Pepper's desk. He set a smoothie that was largely blue and orange in front of himself and a more conventional cup of soda in front of Pepper. "Just what you like, Diet Hep, lots of ice with a little hit of licorice syrup."

Pepper took a big sip and sighed. "Generous plenty... I think I'm the only mammal in the burrow that drinks Hep. But as long as they keep making it, I'll keep drinking it. Now Travis... what are you looking for in a location?"

"Uh well... space?"

"Space? Well... suppose I've heard less exact requirements. But, are we going to need specialized rooms, particular facilities... bathrooms? We can get away with an outhouse system, but that would add the need to hire a service. And will we need it wired for electricity?" Pepper asked.

Travis thought about it for a while, drumming his manicured claws on the seat of his chair. "Well... bathrooms... that would be handy. Electricity... yeah, that helps. I'd ask for WiFi for Sharla but Bunnyburrow is barely advanced enough to have that in homes. Hmm... do you have list of places?"

Pepper pulled out a folder and smiled her high-mouthed smile. "Always have my prospects here."

"Can you show them off tomorrow? I'm gonna need Gideon with me to look over the properties. As the ones tapped to be the heads of this chapter it's our responsibility to make sure we pick the right space."

"Of course! That sounds like a plan," Pepper said, standing and reaching out to shake Travis' paw.

Travis shook the offered paw and smiled. "Fantastic! With more space and more to offer we can give a safe place for interspecies couples and encourage them to be bold."

Zeke chuckled deeply. "Maybe we could even get the Martens out there. Make sure it's nice and open, honey pie. Sweet harmony love her, but Attie never stops smelling like fish."

The three mammals in the cubicle all gave a hearty laugh.

 **Author's Notes**

 **Gideon Ovine? Travis Dreyson?-** Quite a change from the original stories, but all very logical. Gideon was openly disdainful of his family name, and only ever loved two of his relations who were merely slightly crazy rather than malevolent. Of course he took Sharla's name once they got married. For Travis, it was more practical. He married into a family of wealth and status. Becoming a Dreyson meant big things. He was one of the family, a big wheel in the Tri-Burrows, a somebody. Plus, he just really loves Ermintrude and was glad to do it.

 **Dr. Ursula Arctos-** A hilarious exercise in redundancy and a sly reference. Yes, Ursula Andress is meant to be evoked, meaning Jaguar's girlfriend is sexy as a Bond Girl. But also, her name means Little She-Bear Bear.

 **Thomas and Nancy-** Some more callbacks. The absent Nancy Demilop nee Wulfberg is the granddaughter of former Mayor Wulfberg, daughter of the late Buck and Olympia Wulfberg-Mouflon, and sister of Officer Louis Wulfberg of the ZPD. They're from "Unbounded Love" chapter two, "The Incredible Life" but also the alternate universe version of Louis has a modest role in "The Translation of Dawn Bellwether."

 **Pepper O'Pogo-** The fun part of inventing certain elements on the fly, even if other elements had very direct planning. I wanted a real estate agent but had no idea for an identity. She started out as a gender-bender reference to Pogo the possum, and her husband was originally going to be a skunk named Mon'seer Hezekiah, until I thought it would be more adorable for her to be a full Outsider, so Zeke became a bunny. It's also a Sofia the First reference, Sassofrass and Barley being almost overtly a couple by the end of the episode "Bunny Swap." That's where I got Pepper's personality.

 **The Lago family-** This normally would mean "lake" and sort of hint at something like an otter or beaver. However, with the mention of nocturnal stuff, it takes on a new reference. It's meant to indicate a shortened form of Murciélago, the Spanish word for "Bat."

 **Attie and Martin Marten's Fish and Chips-** This seems random, but it's an example of some slightly reduced content. I used to read a lot of _Redwall_ novels. And I always wished that some romance could have gone down between the prey and predators. So, another Outsider pair mentioned in reference. Martin the Warrior becomes Martin the entrepreneur, making his marten wife's dream of a food shop for predators come true. Why a marten? It's funny, and is one of the smaller weasels. To make the sizes make some kind of sense, she's likely a smaller example of the European Beech Marten.

 **Kenneth Hopps-** A chipper little fellow named Kenneth working as a lowly fellow in an office setting? It's good ol' rural Kenneth the Page. He probably sounds just like Jack McBrayer.

 **Other Burrows-** Time to be creative again! Bunnies in Bunnyburrow, all kinds of other burrowers, especially marmots, in Squirrelburrow and all kind of burrowing carnivores and insectivores and such in Predburrow, which is the smallest and lest respected burrow. Or was. Still, the citizens don't mind moving to the other burrows.

 **Diet Hep-** More inventing products. This time something between root beer and sarsaparilla, generally a soda flavored with roots and herbs. The name is meant to evoke the classic small-selling-area and slightly rural Moxie soda. She's so rural, countryside, down-home sugar honeypie darling dear it hurts. Also, Diet because she likes to think she's vain.


	2. Real Estate

I do not own Zootopia, that belongs to Disney. This a fan work made solely for the sake of amusement.

 **Interspecies Relationship Support Network- Tri-Burrow Chapter**

 **Chapter Two: Real Estate**

 **By: Gabriel LaVedier**

"Travis... I'm a baker. I don't know nothin' 'bout property 'n' such," Gideon protested, standing close beside his friend.

"What is there to know? You bought your home and a business. You know that much," Travis replied.

"Well... Pepper told me what I would need after the bank told me what I could get. I just listened to what Pepper told me," Gideon admitted.

"And I didn't steer you wrong, did I?" Pepper asked with a huge smile and a lilt in her voice. "You and Sharla seem happy with the business and home. You can trust yourself in my paws."

"It still serves us to be informed consumers," Travis said. "Pep, you're part of all this so you know what would be helpful. Zeke has special requirements. I wish Jaguar was here. He'd know what Dr. Arctos needs, too."

"Far as I can tell, a bikini and sunglasses," Gideon quipped. "She looks like one-a them _Jack Savage_ ladies, 'cept she's a doctor, an' not a spy."

"Jaguar sure got lucky. But I think we can all agree we all did," Travis said with a nod. "Orchard heiress, almost-astronaut, fellow real estate agent. Now let's get lucky with property. Pep, what's up first?"

"Well, as you see here, we're not that far down the main drag from the office. This is the closest one, going cheap," Pepper said, indicating a large, bland brick storefront with a large picture window, like so many others along the main street. It was very much like Gideon and Travis' own combined storefront-homes. "You know the square meter measurement, two floors, but it's gutted. So, we like to call that an _Open Floor-plan_. No counters, no desks, no cubicle or office walls, no kitchen equipment. Pure space, and a good amount."

"Well, it's familiar..." Travis mumbled, scratching the back of his head uncertainly.

"Even if ya take out all the walls 'n' such, ya still gotta put folks upstairs and downstairs less ya wanna stand around. Probably gotta cut a hole in the ceiling so as we all can talk," Gideon noted.

"I know you have to sell property in town, Pep, but we need something better than this. The space really has to be a little more spread out," Travis said.

"Well, no harm in trying. Keep it in mind, if you franchise, Gideon, or if you want a Dreyson storefront, Travis," Pepper said, checking her clipboard. "Rob really needs to work on his work ethic. This collection of listings is... not really what I asked for. That buck, I swear..."

"I'd offer to trade you Kenneth but... Jaguar and I like Kenneth. He's a good worker and always cheerful," Travis said with a smile.

"Well, nothing to do about it. Life happens sometimes, and he did at least give me some of the promising listings that I asked for. I don't think we need to tour them all. You can tell me what you think of some of these. For instance, how does the old abandoned Veggie-Tech factory out on the outskirts strike you?" Pepper asked.

"Wait... wasn't that place condemned as an illegal death-trap? I thought Veggie-Tech itself was sued into oblivion after all those workers at the factory in Podunk died in that fire," Travis said.

"Rob... I need to offload this white isopod but just as the land, with the need to demolish the factory."

"We ain't got the money fer that. But we ain't poor!" Gideon quickly said, thrusting a finger into the air as he did.

"Not saying you are. This would take a big company. This thing is going to hang over my head forever..." Pepper sighed and flipped to her next listing. "One acre open prop... _Rob_! This is literally one acre of open grassland in the middle of somewhere that I bought at a Burrow auction. I bid on a blind lot hoping for valuable property. You wanna have it in a field?"

"'Snough room I guess..." Gideon said. "Might need some extras to make it comfortable."

"More money we don't quite have. But keep it. Like you say, Big Daddy might want us to have the next orchard. One acre isn't much but it's a start," Travis noted.

"I'll slip it to the bottom. Now the next one actually seems like of promising. The Arklay manor. I hear they finally got the report that there are no actual ghosts on the property."

"They didn't say nothin' about zombies, and that was what all the rumors said," Gideon huffed. "'Sides, it's another white isopod. Fixin' it up's a project for rich out-of-towners. We got money, nobody can say we don't, but not out-of-town money."

"It's a tempting prospect. I'm almost certain if we passed the hat we could gather up the funds but I'm also almost certain the reactions would be the same as the one Gideon gave. There's no indication that there are zombies, and there probably aren't ghosts, but that isn't certain," Travis said. "I hope you can unload it on some out-of-towners, it'll be nice to get it fixed up."

"It would sure make the community look nice. I swear, it isn't a money pit. It's got excellent bones," Pepper said.

"That's the problem, too many bones," Gideon mumbled.

"That was never proven, the old cemetery was built on a catty-corner lot, and they moved everything to the new graveyard and memorial museum," Pepper countered. "Well... I think I found what you want. A barn. A big one. Bear-scale and all."

"Bear scale? Well, that'd take care of all the folks I know we have. Biggest one's Dr. Arctos. So this is alright. We might need to add in some features for smaller folks, maybe modify some stairs or throw in some pulleys and things to use the upper area. It's got a loft, right?" Travis asked.

"Absolutely. It's extra large, it's by some transmission lines for easy power access, it, oh, has a septic system. Used to be part of a full woodland homestead but the property owners moved to Zootopia after they'd made a good bit of money. The main house was sold as a separate lot but the barn was placed far enough away that it's considered a separate property. There's plenty of trees between the two so there shouldn't be issues with the neighbors. Which... there currently aren't any. Another agent is taking care of that part," Pepper said, sounding extra cheerful.

"A barn... I think it'll do," Gideon said, cautiously.

"Pep, think we could get a ride out to get a look at it?" Travis queried.

"You know it! Come on, let's get to it," Pepper happily chirped.

o o o

"So here it is. It doesn't look like a lot right now, but, that's the kind of thing you should expect from these kinds of modest fix-up places," Pepper said, indicating the property. They were in the middle of a clearing abutting the woods, though some trees ringed them in roughly on three sides, the access road to it meeting the main road, which showed transmission lines running down it. A line had been run from the mains to the barn itself.

The barn had been designed along traditional lines, just in an expanded size to suit the larger folk it had serviced in its time. It was the classic red barn, though the paint had faded into a kind of tired-looking rusty off-pink. The white trim was grayish and showed the wood beneath. Despite that the wood itself was seemingly sturdy, without termite damage or other indicators of being worn or dangerous. A single, large sliding door allowed entry to the interior, showing mostly empty space and the huge, sturdy central beams that held up the roof and loft area.

The loft only took up a portion of the upper area, the full floor covering half of the area halfway up the barn, with two narrow sections along the walls leading to the area above the door, with another narrow strip along that wall, leaving a rectangular hole. Most of the area was very open, few structures there save for some partitions full of sawdust and bark pieces, probably wood storage. The stairs up to the loft were discreetly placed in a far stall on the right.

"Well, it's got the room we want..." Travis said, stepping through the huge door, which reminded him of nothing so much as the giant gate in that _Game of Rings_ movie he had watched. Given the scale of the usual barn, sizing it up for bears was quite a thing. "And we can afford this?"

"It's rural property with very few amenities that usually motivate buyers. The price is very depressed," Pepper explained.

"Best not wait too long, or some Fif'll come along an' help it out," Gideon joked.

"It'll be an easy sell to the group, that's for sure. The Network will probably provide for the purchase, I'm sure Big Daddy will gladly chip in a few bucks for extras, and we can whip the hat around to take up the slack if we want more," Travis said with a nod.

"I can _misplace_ the down payment stuff for a little while. Honest mistake. My intern makes them now and then," Pepper said with a wink.

"Aww, Pep..." Travis shook his head and chuckled. "You're better than that. We're all better than that. I know you're just trying to be nice but we wanna do this all good and legal."

"We're a 101(D) organization. The bank has great rates, we ain't gonna be on the hook for the whole thing long as we have the organization behind us," Gideon said, prompting stares from Pepper and Travis. "What? I ain't dumb; Sharla's always tellin' me I'm her bright tod. Jaguar told me the Network is a charity and takes up the slack with good rates."

"Dues and donations, it all works out," Travis said with a nod. "I'll talk to the organization head. They'll be the ones putting their bucks down on the barrel head, and our names go on the papers because we're the ones that are the heads of this chapter. It should be quick. They can wire money over into the bank's account in a few days. And Jaguar and I can do the stuff like insurance. It's what we do."

"What should we do after we actually get the place?" Pepper asked, looking the place over with a practiced eye, as though sizing it up for decorations.

"Well, I'm sure Sharla's gonna want some kinda satellite fer the internet. I get her outta the house an' she loves it, but she does love her internet. And I guess she does have work stuff now an' then," Gideon said while tapping one chubby cheek.

"Seeing the inside we're gonna need some Zootopia-style multi-scale infrastructure, plus a system to take stuff up to the loft area. Both problems might have the same solution. I suggested pulleys. Gid, can Sharla whip up some kind of little system of pulleys and levers?"

Gideon gave a good, deep belly laugh, holding onto his stomach. "Travis, she's been ta school jes fer that! Well, not fer that but like that. She can land somethin' on the moon, she builds lil robots an' flyin' gewgaws. She can make us a lil elevator fer folks like the Martens and a big lift fer supplies."

"Some paint, a little landscaping, generally cleaning and sprucing up, just like any new property purchase. We've just got a lot more paws, and plenty of specialty folk. Sharla can make up the mechanical things, Bobby can get a sound system so everyone can hear, we've got plenty of folks to make up hotdish buffets for predators, prey and in between," Pepper said. "We can think of getting more members without having to worry about getting squeezed. Gotta ask because the more kids, the bigger chance. Any of your brothers-in-law gonna need our services?"

"I've been keeping an eye on that," Travis said with a laugh. "Big Daddy's been pretty quiet about it, he's got no problem with Outsiders or other folks, but he likes to think he's mysterious. It's pretty obvious that he's been _coincidentally_ introducing Jules to a lot of slightly older predator women while he works for the orchard. Now the highest number was six years, it's not weird. I think he just thinks Jules needs someone established. And that Jules has his room plastered with predator models."

"Outsiders aren't often subtle. I sure wasn't," Pepper chuckled. "It was easier for me, lots of bunnies around to sigh about, but there wasn't anyone for me but Zeke. Knew it the minute I saw him."

"Well, that's a story we all know. Even if she was all over-grown, jes a big black lump-a lanolin and twisty wool braids, Sharla was beautiful as the ripest harvest, and twice as sweet as all the berries on a bush," Gideon sighed. "Sol Invictus et Sancta Terra I love that ewe."

"How are we doing this? Shake on it until they wire the money and send the electronic signatures? Being a Notary I can do most of this stuff. We just need approval from the bank," Travis said.

"Like Gideon said, they'll give you a favorable rate. You might get dirty looks from that sour Alma Artia but she hasn't worked in home loans since she tried redlining some Division folks," Pepper said. "Who'd you get when you got the loan for your shop-homes you two?"

"Well... I got Alma... but then Mr. Alces stepped in when I got the feeling she wasn't treating me as nice as she seemed. He finished off all my loan stuff," Gideon replied.

"I got Brenda Castor. She'll talk both your ears off but she was really professional about it. Are you two related, Pep? I never heard so much talking. And she's got that little bit of underbite, just enough that her teeth click, and it sounds like Morse code when she really gets jawing."

Pepper chuckled softly, inviting the two back to her re-rigged well-cared-for Boutavant Chavapa station wagon. It was a car model designed for those of about Gideon's size, which meant that she had had the common aftermarket addition of small scale modifications. Pedal boosters, an inflated foam seat, extra side and rear view mirrors, and an angled mirror to get a better over-the-wheel view. It wasn't a big change, but enough. "I'm not aware of any beaver in my family tree, but it wouldn't be an unwelcome addition."

Gideon and Travis buckled up in the back and settled into contemplative looks. "Well, we know Mr. Alces will keep things civil. And Brenda's got good relations with us since her cousin in Zootopia is married to a fisher. I'll call the Network head as soon as I get back to the office, get all the paperwork started and all that. You and I can razzle-dazzle him into getting him on board for this."

"I dunno, Travis... yer a lawyer, or near enough, ya do that kinda thing. I'm a fox that never learned the razzle-dazzle, my parents were hateful critters that never held with smart stuff like that. Should we call Judy's husband? He's got some moon-tongue in him."

"Come on, Gid, we can do this. It's our responsibility to do stuff for the Network. We need to be up to the task if we hope to keep being leaders," Travis insisted.

Gideon sighed and slumped back. "Yer right, Travis... sometimes, ya gotta tell me what I know. Sharla tells me that's how ya learn, and she'd know."

o o o

"We're on the hook, in one sense or another. It's all about dues and donations, but, charities like this maintain properties like ours all the time. They're just usually in the city where they have more certain control over things," Travis said, leaning back in his second-paw office chair. He was in the office he shared with Jaguar, another open floor-plan type building, both of them working in front of the big picture window announcing their business and the skills they offered.

"They stretch out, right? I mean, we have a Zootopian Plenty food bank here," Jaguar replied.

"But those are usually planned decisions by the central authority that are more carefully calculated. Remember a while back I mentioned they never thought we'd have that many folks? They didn't plan for infrastructure or anything because we're just a rural town in the sticks. They didn't think that three burrows of folks could add up to many. Maybe they even thought we just didn't have many interspecies couples here, like we're all ignorant farmers. I remember what folks said when I told them where I was from."

Jaguar nodded sagely. "They had very... limited thoughts about our level of sophistication. That's how it is with the big city. Uncle Renato always told me it was better if I stayed there, where it was sophisticated, that a four like me would never fit in out in the country. He was wrong, and they're wrong too."

"City folk. Moon bless them, they don't know half what they think they do, especially about things out here," Travis chuckled. He looked around the office space and drummed his fingers on the desk. "Where's Kenneth?"

"Ms. Arctica sent him to the Martens' for lunch," Jaguar answered.

Travis rubbed his head softly and called out, "Ms. Arctica!"

From a desk set up by the entrance to the business a petite, svelte arctic fox vixen came, dressed in a black pencil skirt and a frilly white blouse. Unlike most, she also had on leg and paw attire, net stockings and medium heel shoes. "Yes, Mr. Dreyson?"

"Kenneth Hopps is a cheerful, overly accommodating, maybe a little too-nice rabbit. I know he'll happily pop off to the Martens' to pick up an order even if he hates the smell of fish, but he's our paid intern, not someone who you can order around, Sylvia."

Sylvia scoffed and grinned. "He asked me if I wanted something from there. He likes fried vegetables and was going there anyhow. He's even getting something for everyone with petty cash, he remembers what everyone likes."

Travis snorted and checked his papers. "Did Mr. Alces call from the bank yet?"

"Not yet. I checked this morning but there hadn't been any news," Sylvia answers. "Can I go back to my desk now?"

Travis rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair again. "Of course you can. Is this the only secretarial job available in Bunnyburrow?"

"You're the nicest boss in the Tri-Burrows, seriously. I just get away with everything I can because otherwise I'd go nuts," Sylvia giggled. As soon as she sat down she languidly waved. "Welcome back, Kenny."

Kenneth pushed the glass door of the business open with one cocked hip, a bright smile on his face as he swept in carrying huge paper bags and a drink caddy loaded with soda cups. He was another Hopps bunny, with the usual stature and facial construction, with his coat being one of the rarer found in the family, a lilac point look with a pale chocolate face, hands, paw and tail, the rest of him a light cream. He wore a nicely fitted dark blue single-breasted suit with a bright carrot-print tie. "Hey there, Sylvia! I got your food here. Oh, and the same for you, Mr. Manchas, Mr. Dreyson, and change for the cash box!"

Travis waved it off and huffed. "Keep it. A tip for Sylvia making you go out of your way. You're allowed to turn her down, you know, and just got to The Grease Trap like I know you would if she wasn't making you do otherwise."

"Well, shoot, Mr. Dreyson, I don't mind. All my work was done, and Sylvia works really hard. It's no big deal to be a generous guy. It's what the sanctuary tells me makes a better world, and I gotta agree that it's a great thing."

"I tend to forget you're one of the Sanctuary Hoppses and not the Church Hoppses, that's something I more expect out of the Zootopians," Travis said.

"Ever since I found it I haven't looked back. It just suits me!" Kenneth chirped as he reached into the bag and distributed the food after taking cursory sniffs of each package.

"I'm sure I'll go some day. For right now, I like barking at the moon," Sylvia commented, taking a bite out of a thick fried fish fillet. "Mmm, full fillet, not a mince. Gotta love Mrs. Marten's generosity. I should thank her." The phone rang as she was eating, and she had to take the time to swallow before answering. "Dreyson and Manchas, how may I help you today?" She listened to the phone for a short while, nodding as she did. "Thank you, I'll tell him. Mr. Dreyson?"

"Yes?"

"That was Mr. Alces. Congratulations. You and Mr. Ovine are the proud owners of a barn."

 **Author's Notes**

 **Veggie-Tech and the fire-** I'm not really the biggest fan of Fallout. Most of the elements are too... stupid. They're plain stupid and they never make sense, especially since some of the discovered tech should revitalize the world. Also, Vault-Tec is the most simultaneously evil and ridiculous company ever, and also seems to be an author filibuster for hard-core Natural News-style anti-science wingnuttery. So, I wanted to evoke that, except there they're making food, and got sued into oblivion. As for the fire that's more meant to be a reference to the infamous Triangle Shirtwaist Factory fire, where greed and poor safety protocols led them to chain the doors shut, which lead to people burning alive or leaping to their deaths trying to escape from the roof.

 **White Isopod-** The equivalent of white elephant, mostly useless, interesting to look at but nothing else. Maybe edible but meant to be cared for.

 **Arklay Manor-** Just a bit of Resident Evil humor.

 **The Old Graveyard-** And here we have an Amityville reference.

 **Fif-** The generic, collective term for the priests and priestesses of the Solaterra Church, Fifrah is the masculine form, and Fiffarah is the feminine form. Gideon has a bit of slightly dark humor here, as the Solaterra church helped him out of his depression.

 **101(D) Organization-** An exceptionally nerdy joke. Obviously it means 101 Dalmatians. But it's meant to evoke 501(C)3 charitable organizations, because I like to watch a YouTube show that mentioned the specific status of their organization and drilled it into my head.

 **Boutavant Chavapa-** Sort of a reference that I used in "The Translation of Dawn Bellwether", it's a car company name formed from Marc Boutavant, the creator of the _Mouk_ series. Here, the car's model is named after Mouk's friend and traveling companion, the snow leopard Chavapa.

 **Moon-Tongue-** Gideon's reaching back to his old Holy Selenic Convocation days. Moon-tongue meant glib, slick, having the gift of gab, derived from the Selenic practice of speaking in tongues, which was usually quick and smoothly done, giving the impression of a slick speaker.

 **A Four like me-** Jaguar is giving his interspecies scale number. He's a four, meaning he's past the preference tipping point and probably has no interest in fellow jaguars but still is very interested in fellow predators, as demonstrated by his interest in Dr. Arctos. Renato's comment also reflects a belief that a rural area would be too ignorant to accept someone that strayed that far from their own kind, like they might grudgingly tolerate a two, one or zero and might not automatically shun and chase off a three.

 **Sylvia D. Arctica-** As Kenneth is based off of a character played by Jack McBrayer, I thought it would be funny to keep it up by naming another after Sylvia from _Wander Over Yonder_. The D, of course stands for Dorothy, from Golden Girls, Sylvia's species being a Zbornak, named for Dorothy Zbornak just for fun. And Arctica to make it sound like Sonata Arctica, a power metal band that a good friend of mine loves.


	3. Fixer-Upper

I do not own Zootopia, that belongs to Disney. This a fan work made solely for the sake of amusement.

 **Interspecies Relationship Support Network- Tri-Burrow Chapter**

 **Chapter Three: Fixer-Upper**

 **By: Gabriel LaVedier**

"Now, I shouldn't complain about anything that helps but... this isn't a good thing, is it?" Travis asked, as he stood among a collection of painting supplies, including ladders, rollers, brushes, manual sanders on sticks and a few paint sprayers. He was out of his usual formal suit and in some old, casual shorts and a shirt that had been made for weasels, with a faded ad for some kind of agricultural product. "I can't ask this of you."

"Travis, it's family, family does things for family," Ermintrude chittered, snuggling up to Travis' side and kissing near his ear. She giggled lightly and whispered, "Besides, Jules is gonna need this sooner or later too, so it'll help the family even more."

"What was that?" Jules asked, tilting his head and looking over. Jules was like the other Dreyson boys, though the shortest of the five, with rather the most raw bulk, which made him look like a somewhat-dopey but sweetly loveable oaf. His coat was a light sable color, the most similar in tone to his father and sister if slightly lighter, and he was clad in a well-worn pair of paint-splattered denim overalls.

"Nothing, Jules. Nothing..." Ermintrude laughed, gently nudging Travis. "Bigger or smaller, ya think?"

"Hard to find one smaller, unless it's a beech marten like Mrs. Marten. Have to be bigger. You know him better than I do. Would he go all the way up to something like a lynx or maybe a wolf?"

"He's got the nerve. But honestly, I think we're having another weasel in the family. A good addition. But probably a stoat, a big woman."

"No, if it's a big weasel woman, then you might as well imagine a badger or wolverine. He's got the bulk to live up to their expectations," Travis noted.

"And how do you know what a badger or a wolverine wants out of a mate?" Ermintrude asked, tail twitching and puffing.

"Because my father always told me to stick to the spring-weasels. That was what he called the kinds like us, the noodle-weasels, ferrets, stoats, martens, otters, the usual. He said wolverines and badgers had scary women who liked to bulk up, run wild and wanted extremely buff men who put on displays of strength for them. Not a problem for me. I'm an Outsider. And I've got the sweetest lady ever to exist," Travis replied, kissing Ermintrude on the neck.

"Travis..." Ermintrude flicked her tail in a more happy fashion, the puffiness becoming less of a bristle and more of a fluff. "I really don't know. He's got all kind of bikini pictures on the wall. Big and small. I gotta wonder. She's gonna be a professional, with her own company or some kind of management skill. Big Daddy's always got his eyes out for the boys."

"And he had you on lockdown," Travis noted, picking up one of the sanding sticks.

"Oh he just thought he did. You know he never had a chance. I told you I was gonna marry ya, Travis. And I did," Ermintrude sighed, taking up her own sander and setting to work beside her husband.

"Had me going there for a bit. But I always knew being persistent would work," Travis said proudly, scraping off paint as high as he could manage with the extended reach.

"Just show Big Daddy you've got the nerve and the backbone and that's what matters. I always trusted you to stick it out. I knew how much you loved me and what you'd do to prove it. I wouldn't give my heart to just any noodle-weasel that I've had a crush on since I was a little chittering pup," Ermintrude laughed, bumping Travis with a wide hip, making him nearly topple over.

"Gotta shove it in our muzzles?" Will asked, the tallest of the brothers coming to sand near the base of the barn.

"Will, you're seeing Peony Seedcache, you're not that good at hiding it. And everyone knows just how much of her you're seeing," Ermintrude giggled. "A chipmunk? That's cute. You should join. Jules is gonna."

"I'm not an Outsider like you or Jules or Judy or Sharla. It's not for me. Besides... we're keeping it quiet," Will muttered, keeping his head down.

"You know it's not just for Outsiders, they just have more reasons to be around because of all the support and acceptance. But look at Jaguar and Dr. Arctos. They're both predators. It's an inter _species_ group, not just about diets," Travis explained, switching to lawyer mode partway through.

"Shoulda gone all the way to being a lawyer, Travis," Will chuckled, still hunkered down and looking away as he sanded. "We... we were being quiet..."

"Peony called, ten times. Always asking cute, innocent questions. _Oh, Ermintrude, you're married, you know men. What kind of seeds does, well, let's say Will, like, and how does he like them cooked? What's his favorite color of billed cap? Does he wear something besides overalls? What size does he wear?_ She stopped trying to be coy after a while."

"She's just too cheerful for her own good..." Will sighed.

"Oh it's not Big Daddy you're worried about. She's a tree-critter and from a good family, closely related to squirrels, even. He'd sprinkle a trail of pecan petals lined with peaches to bring her to the house. Who are you afraid of?" Travis queried with an eye ridge raised.

"I... I don't..." Will slowed his scraping and sighed. "Her father is worse than anyone. He doesn't just hate Outsiders, he doesn't just dislike burrowers, and not even just by tradition like Big Daddy likes to pretend, but... he's a... a..."

Ermintrude and Travis both paled as they realized what he was getting at. "A... purist?" Ermintrude whispered.

"Purists still actually exist?" Travis asked. "I mean, most folks go with their own species just because, or near enough if they're half or something. But... a purist? A real purist?"

"He tries to hide it, oh old buck Seedcache tries his hardest to hide it, does all the good stuff he can at the Church, pretends he's generous and good but... I've heard him say some things when he didn't think anyone was listening. I love Peony... but she has no idea that she's in danger if she keeps being so open."

"Don't worry, Will, next time she calls I'll tell her to be a little more subtle. I'll keep you both safe," Ermintrude said.

"Thanks, sis. I mean, maybe we should come. We need the support. There's food, right?"

Ermintrude and Travis both laughed. "Hotdish and other snacks once we get it all set up," Travis chuckled.

o o o

In Bunnyburrow there were more than a few places to shop, but the favorite place for many was one, surprisingly, run by a predator. _Weaselton's Wares_ was like an old general store, scaled up for the populations that tended to be in Bunnyburrow.

The shop was located at the end of the main drag, sitting almost like a warehouse store in slight miniature, full of high shelves and bulk items, but with some trace of the rustic, classic feel still remaining. The proprietor, Meister Weaselton, even still did checkouts, though he had other helpers when there was a rush. He was a middle-aged mustelid, a least weasel with light brown fur that he kept oiled but not greasy, so he looked sharp and presentable. He dressed as he always did, in black slacks, with white spats, a white shirt with thin vertical red stripes, sleeve garters at the middle of both upper arms, gold-rimmed glasses perched on his snout and a green plastic visor.

His shop was properly separated into aisles, but contained only the most essential products for the home, as other stores carried other things. There were canned goods, baking supplies, refrigerators filled with vegetable milks, separate freezers with frozen vegetables and frozen protein sources broken down into fish, insect, vegetable and mix.

One of the few folk in evidence was one of the Hopps children, Jake, about contemporary with Judy's litter, but not quite. He was another standard Hopps rabbit, with a pale cream coat and dark marks on the tips of his ears, a round one over his right eye, speckling on both his hands and his paws, and a spot on his head between his ears. He was dressed almost identically to Meister, except for the glasses and visor.

He looked to be busying himself with restocking, quickly hopping between aisles, deftly carting more products than might have been expected given his slim frame. He shifted, pulled, replaced and zipped off with great efficiency, systematically working his way around the store.

"Slow down there, Jake. You angling for Employee of the Month again?" Meister asked with a chuckle.

"Already a lock. I'm the only employee," Jake cheerfully retorted.

"Well that's just not true," Meister said, his attention suddenly grabbed by the bell at the door. "Welcome to _Weaselton's Wares_. We're not new, we're not improved, we're not rearranged. Why mess with proven perfection?"

Rob Hopps walked into view, with his usual hangdog expression, pulling a metal trolley behind him. "I have a list here. Mrs. and Mr. O'Pogo need supplies for that... place they're revamping."

Meister took the list and looked it over. "Plenty of crossed-off things. Been hitting the other places I see. Hardware, farming supplies, and now, food, cleaning stuff and... decorations? Well, it's gonna need a housewarming, that's for sure."

"Gimme the list, I'll load him up," Jake insisted.

Meister clicked his tongue and shook his head. "I told you that you're not the only employee. Princess!"

From out of the back area came Meister's daughter, holding her cell phone and tapping away at it. She wasn't in what passed for the uniform of the business, wearing Daisy Dukes cut daringly high on her toned legs, with a tied-off orange gingham shirt designed for a weasel on top, over a red undershirt. She was wearing a green visor like her father, and had some makeup on, some eyeshadow and lipstick. She went along on fish leather platform sandals, decorated with rhinestones. "Yeah, dad? I'm in the middle of something."

Meister handed off the list and tapped on it. "Missus and Mister O'Pogo need supplies for that project the Network is getting up to. I have two employees for a reason, so let's get to it."

"Delegation, right. Okay, Cookies-and-Cream, ten items, with different numbers of each. I'll go by aisle, you load up the trolley," Princess said, standing by the counter.

"No, no, go by size and shape, preference to large, sturdy squares or other load-bearing objects," Jake said

"Are you questioning my methods?" Princess asked, with a slight edge to her voice.

"When I have to. Hard as it is to say, there's more to it than speed and efficiency," Jake answered.

Princess huffed and read over the list again. "Two packs of bottled water, five containers of abrasive cleanser, one package of toilet paper, eight tins of fish in oil, five boxes of granola bars, two packages of sponges, four packages of rubber gloves, two medium, two low-medium, two jars of peanut butter, five packets of party streamers, one packet of glow sticks. Alright, Cookies-and-Cream, go to it."

Jake dashed off with the trolley as soon as he had heard the full list, laying out the two containers of bottled water to leave empty space on the trolley's base. Rob was following him, shaking his head. "Are you gonna take that from her? From a weasel?"

"You mean my boss' daughter? You bet. Besides, she usually knows what she's doing," Jake answered, settling the tubes of abrasive cleanser on their sides in front of the water.

"What, you mean between filing her predator claws and playing her stupid puzzle games?" Rob huffed.

"She does paperwork back there. She prefers her phone calculator for tax work and the profit and loss statements," Jake laughed, placing the package of toilet paper on top of the cleanser tubes, just fitting it at the front of the trolley.

"So you just let her order you around while Old Hob Weaselton does nothing?"

"Old Hob Weaselton is a strict but fair boss, and he intervenes when he needs to. Why are you making so much fuss? This isn't your job and I don't have any complaints," Jake huffed, layering the tins of fish on the toilet paper, and the granola bars on top of that.

"Hey, Cookies-and-Cream, more work, less talk, okay, yakety-yak?" Princess called out, tapping the list, which she had been crossing off as she saw or heard the items laid down.

"I'm telling dad. He'll set that card-cheating fish-ripper straight," Rob growled.

"Just because you hate the job dad got you and hate your bosses doesn't mean we all hate our jobs. Kenneth sure is happy about it," Jake noted, finishing his block of forward material with the sponges and rubber gloves.

"Kenneth turned into a loon when he started going to that crazy Zootopia church. The Solaterra congregation was good enough for the rest of the family, it should be good enough for him. It's such a pain, he's a bunny! But I constantly have to put up with all that stench of fish and her needle teeth, all that disgusting Out..." Rob caught himself and snorted sharply.

"Outdoor stuff like this? Dad got you an office job, just like Kenneth. Not anyone's fault they make you leave the office now and then," Jake said, having laid down the peanut butter and ending his work with the streamers and glow sticks. "Finished! And it's all in a stable block, with the same efficiency."

"You crossed aisles more than once and you know it. But fine, your stack looks stable, if your brother can keep it straight," Princess said, approaching the trolley with a skein of twine. She quickly wrapped the piled collection up, securing it as best she could in a sort of twine web along the sides and front-to-back. "No charge for the twine. Family discount."

"You're so generous," Rob said with a roll of his eyes. "And how are you even going to ring up..?"

Meister pulled off some receipt tape from his old-fashioned adding machine and passed it along. "If they didn't give you petty cash, tell the O'Pogos I have a record and they can pay next time they're in."

Rob pulled a small fold of cash from his pocket and counted out just enough to cover the total. "I didn't think you had a tab system. They don't at the MacroMart."

"And that's why I'm still in business," Meister said proudly.

"And you take produce in lieu of bucks," Princess added.

"Like I'd turn down Hopps family produce. Many's the time good old Stu got through some lean moments with a crate of berries, carrots and cabbage. He would never take a gift. The gentle silver moves me to offer, but he'd only trade plenty for plenty."

"I doubt dad would do that, but, thank you," Rob said, taking his change and giving Jake an odd look. "Better get all this back to the O'Pogos so they can bring it out to the barn. I hear the Dreysons are still out there for whatever reason."

"It's a good project. It makes our burrow feel really cosmopolitan," Princess said. "I might go out there when it's done."

"Why would you even bother?" Meister asked, shooting his daughter an incredulous look. "What's the point of just a lone-jill night?"

"Oh, like I'd go alone," Princess retorted, sticking out her tongue at her father.

"I forbid you to go out when you are not properly engaged," Meister huffed.

"Fine, I won't go..." Princess groused, dropping a wink to the Hopps brothers before making her way into the back once more.

Rob gave Jake another odd look, while Jake, for his part, just shrugged. "That's Princess."

o o o

"Now, the pulley is one of the six classical simple machines," Sharla said, spooling a rope through an intake slot in an electric engine. The rope was run through a standard block and tackle system, suspended from a heavy hook screwed into the ceiling of the barn and leading down through the opening in the loft floor toward a wooden platform, the tackle holding a hook attached to four ropes that came off of the platform. The ropes were attached to homes set in from the corners of the platform, with large, empty holes closer to each corner. "The others are the wheel and axle, taken as one, the lever, the inclined plane, the wedge and the screw. They change how force acts on things, making tasks easier."

"Well, I do like simple," Gideon said, his self-deprecating laughter earning him a slight glare from Sharla. "Sorry, darlin'. Old habits need extra work. But that's real interesting how it makes it so easy."

"Some machines concentrate the work into a point, like a wedge. Think of your kitchen knife. It focuses your energy down into a single point, or along a line, really, allowing that work to be turned into a sideways force that allows you to cut things," Sharla explained, as she looked over the engine she had bolted to the floor. "And sometimes it works by spreading the force out. An incline means you use more distance to move the same amount of mass. Pulleys work like that, just with a long rope."

"I always learn plenty when ya talk, darlin'," Gideon said, looking over the edge of the loft. "Why you got the holes in the corners like that?"

"I plan to put in guide poles from the floor to the ceiling, so it won't swing around. I just need to test the pulley system to make sure this engine can lift the weights we might want to put on it. Standard engineering stuff."

"It's all about doing the same thing over and over. Good work if you can stand it," a voice called up from below.

"You had every chance to do the same thing, Bobby, you were in the classes," Sharla called down. "Can you step up on the platform? That should be a good first test."

"Just don't swing me too much," Bobby Catmull said, climbing up onto the platform and casually sitting down. "Can Jenny join me? Seems like the kind of stress test that would tickle an engineer."

"Oh is Jenny down there?" Sharla asked.

"Sorry, I'm kind of... quiet you know. I'm here," a soft voice called up. Jenny Thicket settled herself by Bobby and leaned against his body

"Okay, get ready everybody," Sharla called, flipping the switch on the engine. The rope was drawn in slowly and steadily, pulled taut and drawing the platform up slowly. Sharla monitored the engine, watching the works as they moved, and sniffing it for signs of strain.

She flipped the engine off when the platform peaked over the edge of the loft floor, revealing Bobby and Jenny. Bobby hadn't changed much, still a dark-coated cougar, though he had gotten long and lank, like other cougars. He was wearing baggy, ripped jeans and a black tank top advertising his musical services. Jenny was a standard honey-fawn-colored mule deer, her ears larger than usual and slightly drooping. She was looking down and holding tightly on to Bobby's shoulder, wearing a pink tank top with a big heart on it, and a pink skirt over pink-and-white striped leggings. Apropos of nothing, she was carrying a small harp, with some electronics attached to it. "How's it look? A pretty smooth ride all told," Bobby noted.

"I'll add the guide poles and set up a remote control system so smaller members can use this as a proper elevator, it should save us from having to install different sizes of stairs. More money for helping others and we get set up faster," Sharla said.

"I may not have finished the whole engineering courseload but I finished my electrical engineering AS, just enough to work with all my sound equipment, so I can tell you this is a pretty good setup. And all of that saves me having to hire a crew. Well, except for Jenny. She's a sound engineer so I have her on the payroll."

"I keep asking him to stop paying me. I'm his girlfriend, I'm doing it out of love. And I want to make sure he sounds perfect," Jenny said with a shy smile.

"You need an income. You have a life to live, and a job helps with that," Bobby noted.

"Well yeah but I'm... sleeping with the boss," Jenny said, almost whispering the last part.

Bobby chuckled softly, whipping out a remote control and pushing a big, red button. A crackle sounded around the barn and a low, barely audible hiss emerged. "I think we wired it right. Give it a little test, honey."

Jenny softly strummed her harp, the sound emerging from all around the barn with a good amount of harmony. She started to sing with a gentle, earnest tone that rose above her usual quiet voice.

" _I was born a lowly station hand around a lowly star_

 _My life revolved around the ducts and my table at the bar._

 _I'd mend the breaks and mind the dials_

 _Keep the guts of that old station clear_

 _And I didn't mind the tedium trials_

 _For I held that aged station dear._

 _The spacers came and the spacers went and they hardly seemed to care_

 _They barely seemed to know our name, only knew that we were there._

 _We looked on them like heroes bold_

 _And we worshiped their ion streams_

 _All our lives we were always told_

 _They were the heart of all our dreams."_

Gideon and Sharla applauded softly, causing Jenny to look aside with a sheepish smile, her ears dropping a little as they turned pink inside. "That was real nice harp playin', Jenny. And the song was pretty good too."

"Still working the filks, I see. Will you finally join me at the convention in Zootopia? I convinced Gideon to finally join me."

"I... I don't know. I mean, I'd love it but even if I went I'd just hide out at any filking circles and probably not play. I just worked up a little something after reading this old novel called _Stationer's Fortune_ and thought it deserved a song. Others from the same universe had songs. But I'm no Leslie Fisher or Alexander Onager. Just a fan."

"They're all fans, that's the point," Sharla said with a soft, friendly laugh.

Bobby was about to comment when a slight screech ran through the speakers, and a few pops set him to the remote, hitting the off button and cutting off the sound. "Okay... that's a data point."

"Maybe you should have stuck around for one or two of the EE units after you picked up you AS and started working for yourself," Sharla commented. "Are you even certified for electrical? You know the union will train you..."

"I don't need to join the union, I'm not an electrician I'm a musician with some electrical skill," Bobby said with a sniff. "Dad may have found the union useful but I had a different path. There aren't that many electrician jobs out here anyhow."

"You could take over fer yer dad after he retires. We all need our electric gizmos and gewgaws and doodads, even out here. We're what they call a _growth area_. Leastways that's what Judy tells me. According to her fox that means out-of-town money is gonna come around and make somethin' outta what we got here. It's fine with me, more customers, and the space agency'll keep Sharla here since it ain't just a nowhere place in the sticks."

"As long as they don't ruin the feel. I grew up here, and I like how it is, especially since predators are better received, and Outsiders have more... liberty," Bobby said, smoothly sliding in to plant a kiss on Jenny's cheek.

Jenny's ears deepened in color and she buried her face in Bobby's neck. "I'm just from Deerbrooke. This place is so much bigger and more exciting than over there. I don't know if I could really enjoy much change."

"If you think this is impressive wait until I get you to Zootopia," Sharla said. "Meanwhile, Bobby, hire your dad."

"I can wire a barn for sound without involving my father. This was just the first test. Heck, I'm routing the basic controls through this remote here, just for testing purposes. When it's done it'll all be done through the main mixing board off to the side of the main podium. I'll have the wireless mics set up on the frequency that Jenny's wireless harp amp is on."

"See, this is why I trust him. With minimal interference with normal function he kept my harp acoustic but made it able to be played like an electric instrument."

"Helps that harps don't have resonance chambers anyway. I just wired on some pickups to detect the vibrations and then a wireless system to feed it to an amp, or in this case, the speakers. So see, I can do it."

"A harp is one thing, a barn is another," Sharla huffed. "But... you've got some talent. I'm sure you'll pull it off right. We'll test the engine a bit more then go out and buy the guide poles."

 **Author's Notes**

 **Filk Music-** The best description I ever read of Filk music was, paraphrased "Folk songs for folks that ain't." That is, folk or folk-like music for fictional worlds, though the definition has expanded to any music, usually made by fans, about fictional works, especially sci-fi and fantasy. I'm something of a fan, not big but not merely casual.

 **Stationer's Fortune-** A sly reference to an older sci-fi novel I remember reading, _Merchanter's Luck_ by C.J. Cherryh, which was part of a broader universe of novels and, so far as I know, never had a song written for it, though other novels inspired songs, or at least characters in those novels did.

 **Leslie Fisher and Alexander Onager-** Little homages to favorite Filkers. Leslie Fish is a classic from back in the day. Alexander Adams has been at it for a while, though under a different name previously. If it offends you to know previous performance names, please don't read further. They were formerly known to perform as Heather Alexander.


	4. Housewarming

I do not own Zootopia, that belongs to Disney. This a fan work made solely for the sake of amusement.

 **Interspecies Relationship Support Network- Tri-Burrow Chapter**

 **Chapter Four: Housewarming**

 **By: Gabriel LaVedier**

"Who would have thought that, with all the work we knew would be involved, the last things to get done would be the boring insurance stuff?" Travis asked, as he leaned back in his chair and stared at the acoustic tile ceiling of the office.

"That's how it is. We always think about the big, complicated physical things, then forget about the paperwork. It's hard work being an adult," Jaguar replied, tapping away at his phone.

"He said, while watching a bear berserker plow her way through enemies in just fish leather and decorative chains," Travis chuckled.

"I have a properly balanced team with a healer, a mage, an archer and a battle-invoker," Jaguar countered.

"Did you buy the custom skin to make your berserker a grizzly bear?"

"Did you buy the custom skin to make your squirrel rogue black-furred?" Jaguar queried.

"I don't even play that game," Travis asserted. An uncomfortable moment later he picked up his phone and tapped a few things. "She doesn't have quite the stats of the fox rogue but I use her in all parties."

Jaguar chuckled softly and drummed his claws on his desk. "Tonight's the night. The insurance came through, the sprucing up is done, and the word has gone out. Everyone has promised they'll be there, just to appreciate all the space."

"Everyone indeed, even the frequent flakes. Rose and Simon, Nancy and Thomas, even the Martens have said they'd come. I hear Princess Weaselton is even going to be there, lone-jilling it," Travis said with a slight lowering of his voice.

"Don't count on it. I passed the shop and Meister was giving her high holy darkness about going out to the place. She has a good head on her shoulders, I suspect she'll listen to him."

Travis shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe... least weasels have a chip on their shoulders most of the time, or so it's often been said. Other spring-weasels tend to give them a wide berth if they set their mind to something. A forward jill like Princess might just do it."

"I'm not about to get into the middle of a family dispute. I have enough soft pressure from my own family. 'Ay, mijito, un oso?' Sí, mama, un oso. It's not their business who I date. It's not like I'm bringing shame on the family by living in disgrace. I intend to marry her, we intend to have children. With a dozen little osogato nietos crawling around her paws she'll hardly care."

"I'm a little upset at how quickly my family accepted Ermintrude, because I know exactly why they were so okay with it. Dreyson money makes friends very quickly. I should probably be insulted, when dad tells me how proud he is his son 'landed a great catch,' like Ermintrude was just a fat skipjack. Maybe it's because she's wider than me but not a muscle-crazed berserker like a badger or wolvertine or ratel. Little secret, a lot of the spring-weasels have a low-key love for weighty women, as a plump jill is a healthy jill. And, well... Ermintude is one cozy lady. So is Ursula, if I can say so about your lady."

"Say it all you like. I love it when someone compares her to a Jack Savage lady. It's sometimes hard to think how lucky I am. My family has no idea how happy she makes me," Jaguar confessed, looking to a photo of the two of them on his desk.

"I hear Gideon say that a lot. And yeah... I feel the same way. Hard not to. I don't remember you having a hard time but Gideon and I both assumed we'd end up in some kind of trouble, not involved in great romances."

"Well, things are as they are. We should just enjoy them. Like tonight. Are you bringing anything?" Jaguar asked.

"Big Daddy donated a platter of walnuts and plums, and Ermintrude is going to bake a plum pudding, maybe two. I don't have a knack for that kind of thing, I'm a basic bachelor cook. I hear Attie and Martin are bringing fried fish and fried vegetables. They'll have big signs to say which is which and promise to keep them strictly separate," Travis said with a chuckle.

"I'm in a similar state. Ursula has said she's going to bring a strudel, but not what kind. Possibly apple, but she might make it peach, put some money into your wife's pocket," Jaguar chuckled.

"You laugh but it means our future is secure and we can have all the children we desire," Travis said.

"And Ursula being a doctor means much the same. But for now... is it my imagination or have we been light on work today?"

"It happens. Legal advice, accounting and contract witnessing aren't always a needed set of skills. I have something working but until..."

"Mr Dreyson, Kenny just picked up the mail, and you got... wow, are you a book editor in your spare time?" Sylvia asked with a note of humor, dropping a huge manilla envelope onto his desk, which fairly bulged with papers.

"Some days it sure feel like it," Travis replied with a chuckle. He opened it up and gave a quick look at the intimidating stack of papers. "When Ermintrude and I... well, simultaneously confessed mutual feelings and got engaged, she was showing around a Zootopian fruit distributor named Miss Ayotoch. They were looking into a bigger kind of deal, and after quite a long process of negotiating, here's the contract they want to go with. It's long, sure, but they took their own sweet time getting it here."

"You know Zootopia, it's all rush and fuss until a company gets involved. It's why I live here now. It's slow but in the good way. Plus, no more Tundratown chill," Sylvia noted.

"At least you had the fur for it," Travis grumbled. "I probably don't have to tell you, but stay out of Tundratown if you can avoid it. My roommates liked going there because the fish was always fresh, but it hardly mattered if it was almost frozen."

"I stayed squarely in the Rainforest District. Warm, humid, rainy. I do miss it sometimes, but this is my true home. This flat land of temperate weather is where I want to stay. And with Ursula here, I don't have any reason to go anywhere else," Jaguar said firmly.

"I'm gonna have to look this over. This is big. The family can expand even more into Zootopia, and I can really show off my worth. Give Big Daddy results and he respects the glow out of you. I'm not quite his favorite son, but I get things done and he loves it."

"That's an intimidating contract. Can you get through it all today?" Jaguar asked.

"I'd better. I don't want to put things off, and the faster I look through it the faster I help the family. It's standard, printed on one page, big margins, and they didn't even bother with really small print. It's an optical illusion that it's too big to do in one sitting. It'll just take me a bit longer than the average. I'll be there, just a little late. You don't have to worry about me. Enjoy the place. Encourage the Martens to speak, like any new couple, offer encouragement and sharing. Gideon will be there to keep things going smoothly, he had the same leadership training I did."

"It hardly seems right to start things off without you, but life is like that. We'll be expecting you. Will Ermintrude be delayed too?"

"I'll ask her to go without me. She probably will, she understands how important this is. I think she might be showing Jules around the place, but no guarantees. He's still in his mode of pretending he has no idea everyone knows he's an Outsider. It's almost funny."

"Are you going to need me to stay here with you, Mr. Dreyson?" Kenneth asked, hopping into view.

"Nah, that's fine, Kenneth. It's a boring contract and I can make my own coffee if I need it," Travis said. "You enjoy your evening."

"If the Martens are closed I'll just have to see about something else to do for dinner. Maybe I'll go home, they always have plenty."

"There's free food at the thing they've got going on tonight, you can just show up, listen to a few speeches and sneak off before they ask you up," Sylvia said with a grin.

"This is an important network for folks who get marginalized in society. Especially here, it pains me to say. While your uncle wasn't entirely right, he wasn't entirely wrong either, Jaguar," Travis said. "And you can't just cheat the system, you **do** have to sign in and pay dues. This is a tight-knit community. It's not the vastness of Tundratown. You stand out very clearly around here, Miss Arctica."

"First meeting is free, I know all about it. I was just suggesting it as a way to get a free bite. I understand it's important but it's an opportunity. Sometimes those shouldn't be passed up," Sylvia responded.

"I never thought I'd say something so offensive, but you give foxes a bad name," Jaguar noted.

"Now hold on, Sylvia is just being honest about how she feels about things," Kenneth said, stepping up to stand between Sylvia and their bosses. "It's kind of unusual but she's not hurting anyone, and the first time really is free. I've heard you say so. Maybe there are better ways but it's not such a terrible thing. Not like she's saying to steal all the food and do it every week. Some Zootopia folk just like to act a little wild."

"Thank you, Kenny. I mean, I didn't need the defense, but I'm glad someone understands. I'd like to add, I did grow up a little on the poor side in the big city, and I puzzled out a very... pragmatic way of going through the world," Sylvia explained.

"You take a little bit too much joy in your... pragmatism," Travis grumbled.

"I won't say it's a fox thing, because Mr. Ovine proves it isn't a fox thing. But foxes do have a certain amount of residual low status stigma, as the intellectuals say, and that means if we're raised in certain situations we can have a rather flexible view of appropriateness."

"And act like terrible mammals," Jaguar muttered.

"Okay, I'm not perfect, maybe I don't fit in right with Bunnyburrow," Sylvia yapped. "But I made a choice to move here and I stayed here even when it got tough, before you gave me this job. And yes, I'm grateful that you and Mr. Manchas gave me this job but I've always had a personality based on being a little silly and very loose with how serious I am."

"You should accept her personality. She's not hurting anyone, and I happen to like her way. It goes on well with the Peaceground way. The watering hole of the world is vast and we all have to learn to live with the mammal that drinks beside us," Kenneth said.

"I mean... he has a point. It's more explicit in that Peaceground religion, but you know very well the Convocation teaches us about generous allowances for our differences. Predators can be very different in terms of diet, say," Travis said to Jaguar.

"There's still a difference between eating fish or bugs and being arrogant and prideful about being antisocial. But... you're right. I'll get used to her attitude at some point," Jaguar said, slumping down in his chair.

"Cheer up. Just forget that and think about having a date with Dr. Arctos, enjoying the fellowship and the brand new barn."

"Well, it's hard to deny the good feeling from being with Ursula. We'll be sure to enjoy the new location. It's finally sized right for her," Jaguar mused.

"That's the spirit!" Travis said. He looked down at the contract, then over to his employees. "Meanwhile... back to work everyone. I don't know about everyone else, but I've got a lot to do..."

o o o

"Testing, testing! Bobby, how are we looking?" Sharla asked, glancing aside from the podium to a low place beside the stage they had constructed.

Bobby was fiddling with the wires on a mixing board, slowly nodding his head before closing it back up. "Sounded good, it should be fine. How's it sounding, Jenny?"

"Works just fine up here!" Jenny called down from the loft, straining her usually quiet voice in order to be heard.

"Okay, that's the sound system. The elevator works, the lights have been wired, and we got a pretty decent internet signal set up. Everyone who wants to use it can pay in to cover the monthly fee," Sharla said with a broad smile.

"And I didn't even have to call my father," Bobby noted with a hint of pride.

"I'm still on the fence about how happy I am about that," Sharla said. "But the important thing is, we got it all done, just in time. Folks should start coming around soon enough, and then we can get to the activities."

"Sooner than you think, darlin'," Gideon said, coming through the doors carrying a tray with three still-steaming pies. "Plenty of other folks were just behind me." He set the tray down on a long table set up along one wall and set to work cutting the pies into wedges. The spiced smell of apple, berry-carrot and malted oat and timothy hay wafted through the barn as he pulled out a wedge of each and settled them onto paper plates.

Next through the doors were Jaguar and Ursula, who nodded at the size and spaciousness of the location. "Now this is more like it. All the room I need, with no fears of running into anyone or otherwise causing some kind of unfortunate incident. A doctor should strive to be socially proper."

"And privately less," Jaguar said with a low rumble and smile up at Ursula.

"Quiet you," Ursula hissed, setting down the tray she was carrying. "I don't mean to steal any of your thunder, Gideon, but I made an old family recipe. Peach strudel."

"Not a problem at all, Dr. Arctos. More food for everyone," Gideon said.

"And more than that besides!" A cheerful voice cried from the entrance. A pair of smaller mammals entered the barn, both hauling along a metal cart stacked with aluminum trays throwing off the scent of fish and grease. The one who had spoken was a petite example of the European beech marten, standard light brown with a white splotch from under her chin and down her chest, into the frilly top she was wearing. It was white and all ruffles, like something out of a medieval fair. It missed covering her midriff and showed the white didn't go past her upper chest. Her lower attire was also very antiquated, being puffy-legged pantaloons in black with vertical gray stripes which turned into a more standard pant below the knee to the ankle.

Beside her was a most unusually large mouse, an anomaly similar in proportion to Bongo and Zeke, with an understated musculature that leaned toward someone that had been to the gym but worked out mostly through just living and being active. He was a similar brown to his wife, with a white front as well, though it was more a soft cream color. He was also dressed a bit archaically, in a loose purple jerkin and purple leggings. "Naturally, fish and bug food is on Attie's side, and the vegetables are on mine. I can and do eat both but don't worry, we kept them strictly divided. How... ironic."

"Some divisions make sense, others don't. You have to learn to be grown up about things and accept the difference," Ursula said, leaning down once the Martens reached the food table. "May I help you with that?"

"Oh thank you, Doctor Arctos, that would be a great help," Attie cheerfully chittered. "Martin could manage, but I don't want him to strain overly much. He does that enough at work."

"I mean, there's scaffolding around the back and hefting them is nothing for me, but if Attie says take it easy, that's what I'll do," Martin commented, flexing one arm to show off a good amount of muscular definition once it was being displayed.

"He's supremely competent at all tasks," Attie giggled, fanning herself as she looked over her husband.

Ursula chuckled softly as she set the foil trays on the table with the proper labels clearly visible. "He seems like a good guy. But at the meetings we should strive for comfort and freedom. Ease."

"I dunno. I worked hard all my life, tried to make the best I could of being out here. I don't really relax that much," Martin admitted, pulling the empty cart under the table to get it out of the way.

"He's always working around the house or the shop. It's why we only hire part timers. I swear, that man of mine is going to run himself ragged," Attie said, having climbed up onto the table to better talk with Usula.

"Even with all the hours he puts in I'm glad Jaguar has an office job. He's a strong mammal, certainly, but it affords him a bit of rest," Ursula replied with a nod.

"Mental work is still work," Jaguar noted, coming into the barn beside Ermintrude. He was carrying a platter of walnuts and sliced plums, while Ermitrude carried two steaming, dark-colored plum puddings.

"Mm-MM! Missus Dreyson your plum pudding is always a delight. I'm a bit biased, I love me some plums but it's true," Gideon said, licking his lips as he regarded the steamed desserts.

"Well thank you, Gideon! Coming from you, that means a lot," Ermintrude said.

"You outta sell them in my shop. I won't mind at all."

"I'm not a professional, just a home cook. I couldn't possibly do what you do every day," Ermintrude noted with a shy wave.

"I wouldn't mind havin' 'em in once in a while. They'd sell quick by the slice. If you ever change your mind just let me know."

Other members filtered in, and were greeted by Sharla, who had come down from the stage to the door, carrying a tablet. She entered names and checked the status of those that came in, as well as giving a quick introduction to the ones who were new, getting information so they could pay the next time they came in.

Later, once things had been settled, folks had eaten and the time for the meeting had arrived, everyone stood around the edges of the barn or sat at the rows of variously sized chairs facing the stage. There was enough room that no one needed to be up in the loft when everyone was arranged for speeches.

Gideon stepped up to the microphone and waited for Jenny to give him the cue, though the slight hiss of the speakers coming on also told him when to speak. "Evenin', y'all. Most of ya know me. Gideon Ovine, one of the leaders of the Interspecies Relationship Support Network's Tri-Burrow chapter. Normally my friend Travis would be here to talk but he's busy at the office, and told me I could do it. He'd like ta be here but, life is like that sometimes. I'd like ta welcome y'all, old members and new, to a place where mammals understand ya. We respect ya. Yer special and yer safe here. We all want ya ta feel welcome, and feel like this is where ya can go fer a comfortable group-a mammals.

"We've got some new folks, so Sharla tells me. Oh, if ya don't know, fer out-of-towners, Sharla's my beautiful wife, the sheep that got yet information and deals with all the... techno gewgaws around the place. If ya got issues, ya see her. But, there's not all that much ta say. We don't got many plans, all the focus and money was put into the barn, so right now we're just focusin' on the meetings. But, we'll have more fun stuff later. Outings fer picnics, little trips into Zootopia, projects we might wanna do.

"But fer now, we've got some new faces that joined up, and we always open things up fer them ta talk about whatever they like. We got a schedule, but if ya'd rather not, that's fine too. We're still here for ya. Accordin' to the notes, we're startin' with the Martens. So if ya feel like it, come on up. Here's Martin and Attie Marten."

The two mentioned came up to the stage to the sounds of polite applause. Gideon slid a few graduated boxes up in front of the podium to allow the two to get near enough to the microphone to use it.

"Hello there. I'm sure most of you predators and a few prey know us. If not we're the Martens. I'm Attie, this is my husband Martin, and we run **Attie and Martin Marten's Fish and Chips**. It's been embraced by the community and that, well, that feels good. It's the kind of acceptance I never would have expected. I'm just out from Predburrow, you see, and we didn't have a lot of respect until really recently. I'd always heard Bunnyburrow was sort of a nice place. And after I met Martin and told him what I wanted out of life, he did something I didn't ever think prey would do. He respected my dream. He helped me make it come true.

"I was unsure about joining this group because, well, I always just made it on my own. As an Outsider I kept my head down, kept to myself and made as little fuss as possible. There wasn't more than a paw's worth of mammals at our wedding and it was as simple as possible. It felt like isolation and quietness made more sense. But the more and more successful we got, the more I realized how good it felt to be attached to a community. With this new barn, well, it seemed like a good time to join up, be among folks that really understood what it's like to love a little differently than expected."

Martin stepped up to the microphone after his wife waved him up, and he waited for the applause her speech had generated to die down before he began. "I'm not good with speeches, so I'll say I wasn't keen on joining because of my past. I'm not ashamed to admit I'm a loner, and I was just a scruffy drifter. I went along with a wolf-sized butterfly knife across my back, doing odd jobs and sleeping where I could. I was in Predburrow when some self defense broke my knife, and I had nothing but a blade and some handle bits. Attie was there. She took me in for the night, so I thought. She treated me like a proper mammal. In the morning, she didn't want me to go. She had a home, she had space, she had a dream. I threw out my wreck of a knife and never left her side since.

"I don't know if I really fit in here. Who I loved was always my business. I love Attie and that's it. But if it makes her feel good, and I can see it does, then being here is one of the finest things we've done. I don't need to be accepted, but I can't help it, it really does feel good. Thanks for listening," Martin said, stepping back to embrace Attie to a louder round of applause and some coos from those who found it sweet.

"Well now, ain't that sweet? I never knew that. Thank ya fer sharin', both of ya. That's why we're here. We're here fer all the folk that want to be welcome. Even if ya still don't feel quite right in Bunnyburrow, we're here," Gideon said, checking his clipboard after Marin and Attie climbed down from the podium. "Now the next one says... Princess Weaselton? Oh... gotta 'nother note here. _Lone-jillin'_. And a first time. Oh. Well, hope ya like it. If ya feel a little... more than zero, like some folks say, then I hope ya come back. Next up, we got another first-timer, Sylvia D. Arc-"

"You can skip her, she's here for the food," Jaguar called out, interrupting Gideon.

"Oh? Ya sure?'

"She said so herself at the office."

"Well... foxes can be good at getting' food. It's a bit much fer a buffet but if ya come back, remember ta pay," Gideon said with some coolness. "Well, next up we got some very busy folk, but they're here today. Our blushin' soon-to-be-weds, Simon Spikel and the widow Rose Baumkuchen." Gideon yielded the stage to an older couple, a very petite pink pig woman in a simple red dress and a very grand-looking hedgehog in a finely tailored suit, which included pressed heavy wool trousers and matching jacket, a crushed velvet waistcoat and a silk shirt.

o o o

Travis checked his watch and sighed. That contract... he'd gotten through it, noted all areas that needed clarification and places that would have been a bit bad for the family and marked everything for renegotiation and clarification. It was the least he could do, lobbing the huge lump of paper and ink back for them to deal with.

It was already fully dark as he made his way up the road to the barn. It was something of a walk but in the Burrows walking was something that no one ever complained about. He still passed some parked cars, most probably from the out-of-towners who had been encouraged by the extra space and the celebratory nature of the first meeting in the barn.

As he approached the first thing that struck him was the smell. Fire. He hadn't heard about any plans for a bonfire or some kind of cookout. Then the screaming. That sound put his limbs into motion and he was off like a shot. The smoke grew thicker, and the night was lit up with a dancing light. An intense sea of red drew him to the barn, where he saw the horrifying sight that he had hoped was a mistake.

The barn was an inferno. The flames licked up over the freshly painted walls, and smoke billowed out from every opening. The blaze cast a wavering, ominous light over the scene of chaos. The members of the support network were all arrayed on the ground outside of the bar, coughing, trembling, holding onto each other. Dr. Arctos was rushing between them, checking on their conditions. Gideon, Martin, Jaguar and a few others were using a secondary tap in a futile effort at fighting the blaze, filling buckets and tossing them onto the fire.

Travis stood there, stunned, until it finally struck him to scream out, "Ermintrude!"

"Travis!" Ermintrude leaped up from where she had been and ran over to him, wrapping him in an almost crushing embrace. "Oh Travis... it..."

"What happened here..?" Travis asked, whispering the question into Ermintrude's ear as he held her.

"We were just having speech time. Jules was stammering his way through saying he wasn't an Outsider except he was, and then we smelled the smoke. Bobby checked his wiring but it didn't seem to be coming from where he looked. We didn't panic until we started feeling the heat. The whole outside was going up by the time we got out. Everyone got out, but we had to keep everyone from trampling over smaller folks. Mr. Marten protected his wife and Gideon helped direct folk in the most orderly way. We were really choking by the time we all managed to get out. It really went up..."

Sharla rushed up to the two. "I just called the fire department. They're not that far out. But... how could this happen?"

"Out first meeting here... and it's gone," Travis whispered, looking at the barn burning, the timbers crackling and snapping, roof collapsing into the ruined structure and truly showing the devastation as it was consumed.

 **Author's Notes**

 **Attie and Martin's stories-** As noted, these two are supremely loosely based on Redwall notions. Now, the story is very similar to any number of romance stories about the gruff lone-wolf drifter and the lonely woman who get on well together. Martin with his butterfly knife is similar to Mossflower, breaking the weapon and all. But this one gave up on a violent way to dedicate himself to a loving relationship. Attie is a bit more obscure, being loosely named after the only female pine marten (though she is the smaller beech marten) who was a villain but one of those villains that are noted for being loyal and dedicated to their orders who are killed by nastier villains. Here this is reflected by her more retiring, solitary bearing. Fun fact: She was originally going to be a ferret named Romy, after the only acknowledged penitent ferret, but I already had Travis, and besides, ferrets are kind of large.

 **More than Zero-** A phrase cooked up by and made narrowly popular by the Support Network, based on the scale of interspecies romantic feeling, Zero being none and any more more than zero having that kind of feeling.


	5. Up in smoke

I do not own Zootopia, that belongs to Disney. This a fan work made solely for the sake of amusement.

 **Interspecies Relationship Support Network- Tri-Burrow Chapter**

 **Chapter Five: Up In Smoke**

 **By: Gabriel LaVedier**

The barn was a ruin when the last of the embers were quenched. The roof collapse had been only the first part of it, the walls partially caving in as well. The Bunnyburrow rural Volunteer Fire Department had just made it out there with the tanker full of water, getting help from the Network members to dig firebreaks around the flaming barn. Fortunately for them, the regulation clearing around the space had worked as required. The blaze never jumped to any of the surrounding trees and the only casualty was the barn.

Dr. Arctos continued to see to the members, covering couples with blankets the volunteer firefighters had brought. Not much had been salvaged from inside, some food and drinks that had been grabbed were given out. Jenny sobbed piteously, hugged close to Bobby's side, cradling her amplified harp against her chest. Sharla regarded the smoldering heap, staring into the smoke to see if any of the electronics survived in any state.

Travis looked over the destruction, eyes full of tears from the smoke and the emotion. "No... no... it can't... it's gone. It's all gone..."

"All that time and effort... my brothers and I, and you, we stripped the whole thing and painted it over. We took all that time. We made a few days out of it, when we had free time. It was... it was fun. Wasn't it fun? It was a family project..." Ermintrude whispered, standing, disbelieving, beside Travis.

"Had that nice little elevator in the middle. One-a yer simple machines with them pulleys. Worked good, made settin' up the loft easy," Gideon said with a thick voice, as he tried to comfort Sharla.

There was a stunned sense of disbelief, a complete inability to say anything. No one was significantly hurt, a small miracle. Martin Marten had minor burns to his hands and arms from rushing in to keep helping others and try to salvage some of the things inside, before Attie had stopped his quests inside as the structure grew too dangerous.

Several hours into the encounter, after the firefighters and many of the members had gone home, wailing sirens and flashing lights announced the arrival of one of the very rare law enforcement vehicles ever seen in the Tri-Burrows. An older but well-cared-for Pride Simoom with Tri-Burrow Sheriff Department indicia. Given the population and spread-out nature of the rural location they didn't have local police, just the sheriff and a few deputies that covered the whole Tri-Burrows as best they could.

That night, they were quite fortunate to have gotten the presence of Beatrix Nikostytär, the sheriff herself. Her full rack of antlers came out of the car first, the crescent of her reindeer antlers decorated with runic-type carvings daubed with blue in the carved areas. Her cervid face followed, feminine and slim, her eyes somewhat hard as she looked over the scene. Her well-muscled form was wrapped in the khaki uniform pants and shirt, with a thin jacket over it.

Her deputy for that night, Buck Roeberts, came out immediately after, in something of a too-quick manner. Another rack of antlers crowned his head, but a smaller set of tined types, appropriate for a roe deer. He was gangly, almost disjointed, his uniform hanging on his lank form. His eyes darted around, suspicious and judgmental.

"Alright, tell me what we know, and who was here. We can try to resolve this matter quickly," Beatrix said, pulling out a notepad and pencil, flicking the tip with her tongue and setting the tip to the paper.

"Look at that! There were more folks here but the clearly fled the scene of the crime! That just screams something was happening here they didn't want us to see. What did you have going on here? Maybe some kind of naked dance? Orgy?"

Before any of the remaining folk could respond Beatrix snorted sharply and shot a piercing gaze to the side. "Deputy Buck! We gather evidence and ask questions to gather the first pass of the truth. We may see how it measures up, but do not come in with our own wild notions. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Sheriff..." Buck mumbled. "But there was something going on."

"Yes, a meeting of their support network. Everyone of any reasonable intelligence and social connection knew that. Mostly their own members, yes, but they had to get permits for the structure and Mrs. Dreyson mentioned this initial meeting in the new location when she submitted her paperwork."

"It was the very first meeting here," Travis said. "We spent so much time and effort and money getting this place cleaned up and looking good."

Buck shook his head and looked on the wreck. "Not looking so good now..."

"Well!" Ermintrude chittered, tail bristling hugely. "What a terrible thing to say! We've had a horrendous tragedy! We were just fortunate no one was injured beyond coughing and minor burns! How unprofessional! This is a poor representation of law enforcement!"

"Absolutely, you're very correct, Mrs. Dreyson," Beatrix said. "Deputy, either be more capable of understanding the situation or wait quietly in the car while I do the job we're paid to do."

"Come on, Sheriff! Look at this. Most of them are gone, got some fake tears and no injuries or dead bodies, this is all a put-on to get some fake sympathy out of us."

"I ain't... my daddy. I ain't a violent tod no more..." Gideon huffed, body trembling, fists clenching and unclenching. "I ain't... I ain't... Sol Invictus et Sancta Terra I ain't a violent tod but desolation take me... it's hard ta keep the fists still when ya say my wife screamin' fer me, runnin', brushin' embers outta her wool was jes **fake**!"

"Please, please! Some calm, Mr. Ovine, I genuinely understand," Beatrix said, softly. "Deputy, I don't know if it's the late hour or maybe you had a few shots, but you are on thin ice right now. Cease speculating until I ask questions."

Buck snorted, stalking away toward the barn. "I'll look out there, see if I can tell what happened."

"No, Deputy. We have to examine it together. Just stand there and be quiet."

Buck hmphed and crossed his arms over his chest. "Fine. But I want to get this investigation over with fast. It's just a small barn fire. Nothing special or exciting."

"It was certainly special and exciting for us," Ermintrude huffed.

"Do you have a list of who was here?" Beatrix asked. "Clearly your members went home and I can't blame them. We'll need to interview them to get a fuller picture of what transpired here."

"Y-yeah, I have a backup on my phone..." Sharla said, pulling up the list and showing off the names. "I kept the records on a tablet but... I didn't grab it when we got out. Just tell me when to scroll..."

Beatrix took her time, jotting down names and locations, motioning to scroll the names as needed. "Thank you, Mrs. Ovine. We'll have to see them in the morning. Some of these will take us out into Predburrow and Squirrelburrow. And we'd need to contact the Sheriff of Deerbrooke to talk to some of the folks from Podunk and Hickton."

"Lots of work, yeah, I get it," Buck grumbled, softly kicking a rock.

"But while you good folks are here, I can ask you about some things," Beatrix said, flipping a page of her notebook and turning to Travis. "Mr. Dreyson, what can you tell me about this fire?"

"Honestly, I was here toward the end. I was at the office almost all the evening reviewing a contract," Travis answered.

"Say, did this place have insurance on it? Do you have life insurance?" Deputy Buck asked.

"Well, of course. My partner's an insurance specialist, and I'm no slouch myself."

Buck nodded slowly. "Oh, did you have any of your interns or something at your office with you?'

"Nah, I gave Kenneth the night off, and Sylvia was planning to come here and use her one free time to get free food. It was just a contract review, and I could get my own coffee," Travis replied.

"Can't prove where you were, got insurance on the place, probably got insurance on that rich wife of yours and got her money coming your way... case closed, let's write it up. Weasel here burned down his own property for the money and to off his rich wife," Buck asserted with a smug look.

"I think I understand how much anger you've got in you, Gideon. I'm no little punk kit anymore, but I remember I used to be," Travis hissed, his fist grasped in Ermintrude's strong paw.

"We're both on the policy. We're the representatives of the Network out here, ain't no sense in Travis doin that if he wanted the money," Gideon explained, with some gruffness.

"And you were here. He gets rid of you and his wife, it all come to him. Easy," Buck said with a dismissive wave.

"Sheriff Nikostytär, what is the general penalty for punching a deputy in the nearest location my fist can reach?" Ermintrude asked with a hateful huskiness.

"Quite severe, if it can be proven. While I doubt I'd see anything I think we should avoid testing my eyesight right now," Beatrix said with a calm, even neutrality. "Deserved as it would be, the line of thought was needed. It's an indelicate and terribly worded way of asking a question we'd have gotten to in better ways eventually. Your answers tell me all I need to know."

"We all stayed here because we knew we'd had to answer some questions. The others needed to head home... we should too, but this is an important part of the investigative process, if mystery novels have taught me anything," Sharla said.

"Will you be asking the questions, Sheriff?" Travis inquired, staring daggers at Buck.

"That's why the Burrows give me the big bucks," Beatrix said with a smile. "Now, Mrs. Dreyson, you were here when the fire started, correct?"

"Yes. My brother, Jules, was up at the podium, talking about his feelings when we noticed the smoke. We thought that there was some kind of problem with the wiring or that someone was having a cookout. We didn't get worried until we felt the heat. That's when we started to panic. We all had to rush out of the building, and that got a little confused. There was a jam at the entrance for a while, but we did manage to get out. Martin Marten kept going back to check for any stragglers and to recover things."

"I see. I'll certainly have to talk to him. Did anyone else notice anything?" Beatrix asked.

"I honestly assumed it was electrical," Sharla said, stepping forward. "Sun and Earth love Bobby Catmull but he's not like his father. He didn't train as a practicing electrician, he studied a lot of theory and maybe some supplemental books. He's an electrical engineer, and is good with his sound systems, but I'm not sure about how he is with home wiring. I'm reasonably certain it wasn't but the thought was there. A panic response."

"Faulty wiring, happens all the time, especially in an old place like this wired up by some fraud," Buck said with a shake of his head. "A tragic accident, that can close this case."

"I still don't think it was the case. Sure, he's overconfident, and he mostly did theory. But I'm almost certain that he got some kind of help from his father concerning home wiring," Sharla noted. "He's kind of full of himself but he's sincere and cares about others. He wouldn't do anything dangerous. He'd die before he put Jenny in danger."

"We'll look into the possibility of the wiring. Buck may have been dismissive but he was right about how tragically common it can be to get an electrical fire in old buildings," Beatrix said, continually scribbling in her notebook. "You mentioned food earlier, Mr. Dreyson, that your employee came for food. Were there any hot plates, jellied fuel or similar things? Some source of heat to keep the food warm?"

"Naw, naw, it was all cold stuff or food we let cool," Gideon noted. "Hottest food we had was fried fish and fried vegetables the Martens brought. I brought in some pies, Ermintrude brought plum puddings and a fruit and nut plate, Dr. Arctos brought in a strudel. That was about all I remember. We didn't want folks to bring in food 'less they really wanted to. We'll have a schedule sometime, but they can jes bring it in as they like."

"Fried meat and meat pies, I'm guessing," Buck noted.

"Naw. Could do it, mind. Granny Millie could actually cook, and had recipes fer fish aspic an' blended-bug vinegar pie filling she gave ta me. Only Grey family things of real use."

"Gideon..." Sharla said with a scolding tone.

"I ain't a Grey no more, darlin'. I'm an Ovine. Granny Millie weren't a natural Grey, she was a Mudd, and Grampy O's gone on to his promised place in the Moon's gentle shine," Gideon explained.

"Why not do it, Gid? Wouldn't be a competition with the Martens, and it might be a good side-business," Sharla said.

"Well... if there's some interest..." Gideon mumbled.

"We're getting off-topic. So there was no cooking fuel or anything. It might have been faulty wiring, or maybe some other... circumstances. Quite strange..." Buck said, looking over the gathered folks.

"He's right that it's strange," Beatrix quickly said. "Okay, folks, go on home. Get some rest, you really need it after all this. Please, I hope you have a good night, folks," Beatrix said, putting away her notepad and nodding politely.

"Thank you, Sheriff. Please find out what happened..." Ermintrude said, leaning on Travis' shoulder. "Let's go to the homestead. Jules and Will are probably there already. I'll bet a whole grove of fruiting trees Peony's there in Will's room."

"Alright hon. Jaguar can open the business tomorrow. Let's just get a good night's sleep..." Travis whispered, rubbing his muzzle along Ermintrude's shoulder.

"Need a shearing tonight, darlin'?" Gideon quietly asked, petting down Sharla's back.

"Barely any fuzz in the places it shouldn't be but you get rid of it. Every last piece of wool. Make me smooth as glass where I should be," Sharla said with a soft bleat.

o o o

"Sheriff, it's late! We can do this tomorrow, or send for some help from Zootopia or somewhere," Buck complained, standing a short distance from the wreck of the barn.

"The fire department cleared the scene, and the sooner we examine things the better," Beatrix said, shining her flashlight along the edge of the barn. She leaned in and snorted softly, lips pulled back as she drew in sharp breaths of air, practically tasting each breath.

"What do you expect you find? You can't find electrical damage like that. Well, I guess you could smell the metal and see burned wires," Buck mused, following along without looking.

"I'm not sure about electrical wires. Yes, Bobby Catmull is something of a layabout sometimes, but he files his permits and does everything precisely. I've seen him with that Thicket doe. He might be brash but he treats her like a queen. He'd move the sun and earth to keep her safe, and wouldn't dare have even slightly questionable wiring. I'd be willing to bet he did quietly call his father to look over the wiring," Beatrix answered, slowly moving along and looking down at a spot for a moment before she moved one.

"She's pretty nice, for a mulie... I could overlook those ears, but she's with that scruffy musician. I don't know how they make a living," Buck muttered.

"There's a wedding, a funeral or something else important going on with reasonable regularity. An all-around musician like him can make it. As for her, just keep looking. They're as solid as any other couple," Beatrix said with a soft chuckle.

"I just can't see it," Buck huffed.

"Well, love's like that sometimes. It doesn't need to make sense, it just has to work..." Beatrix said, snuffling loudly as she passed near the fallen back wall of the barn. Her lips curled more and she practically snorted as she reached the middle of the rear. "Wait... rush back to the car and get me the collection kit, and make it quick."

"I'm going, I'm going," Buck shouted, rushing over to the car and hurrying back after a short while, carrying the plastic case that was asked for. "What is it?"

"It's faint, and it's been reduced by the firefighters and evaporation..." Beatrix opened up the case and pulled out tweezers and sample bags after pulling on rubber gloves. She slipped a few leaves and pieces of wood into the bag, then took out an empty vial and scooped up a sample of the soil. "I smelled something. This might work better if we hired some wolves."

"I like the way things are right now. We've got good senses of smell," Buck insisted, curling his own lips and snorting softly. "What is that?"

"That's why we've got a lab and a few folks to run it. But it smells like some kind of chemical accelerant, not necessarily gasoline but it was something that would set off a fire," Beatrix replied, taking a few more samples, especially from the charred wood. "The collapse and scattering ruined the pattern but I think it was splashed on here, and all down the way, but mostly focused here."

"I thought that weasel was hiding something!" Buck shouted, punching his palm.

"Oh drop it, Deputy. If he had done it he'd still be **reeking** of it, and he would hardly have had time to do it, go shower, dry off, then come back. He'd still smell like it, if only more faintly," Beatrix huffed. "But, someone did this. It's not just some bad wires. The lab's gonna show us, we have an arson here."

 **Author's Notes**

 **Beatrix Nikostytär-** There's a lot going on here. She was always a reindeer, but originally was supposed to be the daughter of Icelandic immigrants, with the patronymic Nikosdóttir, because I know an Icelandic person and it tickled me. But her specific reference is to the movie "Niko and the Way to the Stars", which is Finnish. So I checked for Finnish patronymic endings and found this. So, she is Beatrix, daughter of Niko. Niko and Saga must be very proud that their daughter has such an important position as Sheriff of the Tri-Burrows.

 **Granny Millie and Grampy O-** Yup, I went with the full retcon. To see the inspiration, check "Baa-Baa Black Sheep" in the story "Unbounded Love."

 **Mulie-** Cervid-specific slang for mule deer. It's not overtly offensive but it is a bit rough, somewhat like "cute" for bunnies.


	6. Case Open

I do not own Zootopia, that belongs to Disney. This a fan work made solely for the sake of amusement.

 **Interspecies Relationship Support Network- Tri-Burrow Chapter**

 **Chapter Six: Case Open**

 **By: Gabriel LaVedier**

" _Sheriff! My family is under attack! Four of my precious children were in danger of burning alive last night! Three of my own flesh and blood and my delicate son-in-law; and before he and my daughter had a chance ta have their own little'uns! Do somethin' of some kinda substance, Sheriff!"_ Big Daddy Dreyson yelled, through the phone.

Sheriff Beatrix was holding the phone away from her ear, wincing slightly each time the shouting voice cracked the max levels on the phone. "Mr. Dreyson, please, calm yourself. I assure you, we're doing all that we can to handle this situation with all the capability we-"

" _Don't you gimme that line! If I want some pap ta hand out ta folk I get Travis ta bamboozle other folks! Don't ya try bamboozlin' me, Sheriff!"_ Mr. Dreyson chittered. _"I know ya ain't doin' enough, ya ain't bustin' any heads! Ya got yer powers, don't ya? Deputize my sons. They'll go crackin' heads and bustin' chops! They'll get yer answers, Sheriff!"_

"Mr. Dreyson, we don't go around doing things like that. We find leads and follow the law. Now, I'm going to hang up and get to work on solving this very disturbing and very important case," Beatrix huffed.

" _Don't jes hang up on-!"_

Beatrix sighed and slumped back into her chair, the wooden swivel chair groaning under the sudden slump and backward push from her body. She was sitting at her desk, an aged thing made of dark wood, with papers and folders neatly settled on the surface. It was tucked into a corner of the rather spacious Tri-Burrows Sheriff Department main office. Given the size of the patrol area, and without a correspondingly high population, it was logical to have the one main office and scattered substations of various sizes.

The whole place was a sort of rustic-chic-meets-post-deco, with a lot of stained wood cut into shapes that imitated suburban designs, along with plastic tile flooring in black and white, a balustrade that looked suspiciously like a white picket fence and furniture that had a lot of vinyl covers in muted primary colors. Breaking the mold were the wall decorations over the Sheriff's head, mounded racks of reindeer antlers, each one carved with different runic designs and highlighted with different colors, each one representing a year of her appointment.

Buck's desk was set across from Beatrix's, which was slightly messier, with stacks of paperwork and some old snack food wrappers. Buck was seated behind it, head shaking lightly after listening to half the conversation. "Old buck Dreyson yapping about the case? We can only work so fast. Money makes some mammals crazy."

"He's not crazy; he's a father. Kind of an intense father, but just a father. He was right, though. Four of his children nearly got burned to death in a probable arson. He has a right to be upset."

Buck tilted his head and started counting on his hooves. "Wait... four... I counted three on the list."

"Will, Jules, Ermintrude and Travis, he even made sure I remembered Travis was 'delicate' and probably needed extra retribution for what happened to him, especially since he and Ermintrude hadn't yet had children."

"Huh... never would have thought of that. He's just an in-law," Buck said with a shrug.

"Still family. He's got a big heart when it comes to family. It's really nice," Beatrix said with a smile. She sighed and picked up a paper. "Still waiting on the lab report, but there was a lot more charring in the areas where I smelled that accelerant. I'm almost positive it's an arson, and an investigator for the company will be by in short order, I'm sure. But that means someone intended to burn a barn full of folks to death. That's something we need to get on top of, because I'm almost certain we can tell why those folks in particular were chosen."

"Fake sympathy, Sheriff, think about it," Buck said. "No one died, barely any injuries, even."

"That was a miracle, by the grace of the sun and earth. Plus, Martin Marten and Gideon Ovine helped to direct and help folks in escaping. No one was in the loft and there was a clean escape route at the front and the fire started at the back. At best, best mind you, the arsonist didn't want to outright murder them but I'd be willing to bet they wouldn't have cared."

"It's a possibility I guess. I just can't shake the feeling that something is off."

"Arson as a crime is off. A professional is a crazy mammal and the amateur is going for the most blunt-force destruction they can get short of dynamite. And it's easy to get hold of stuff that can burn that can be splashed around. Something is bothering you besides that."

"I was sleeping," Buck grumbled. "And it was a good, deep sleep, too."

Beatrix laughed softly and shook her head. "You took the job, you took the responsibility."

"It's the Burrows! Nothing happens in this place! I've lived here my whole life and it's just a dull little place, all full of prey and happy about it. I was happier when things weren't so bustling and citified," Buck huffed.

"Well, that's your opinion," Beatrix said, pulling out another paper from a folder. "We need to question some of the members of the Network. We might pick up some new insights from them. Plus, they might know of some folks that wanted to do them harm. There's always a few bad apples in every windfall."

"In the Burrows? Sure, there are some... mean folks. But they just get drunk and loud. That's all there is here. No one actually believes in hurting folks."

"Don't assume that. Assuming that is how you get blindsided by The Slashy-Smiley Killer. I'm not gonna be that sheriff. I take crimes seriously and never think _It can't happen here_ , because it honestly could," Beatrix said, rising and taking a tranq pistol out of her desk and strapping on a few darts across her waist.

Buck shuddered, pulling a taser from his desk and slipping it into a holster. "You had to remind me of that. How am I supposed to sleep knowing that thing was from here? At least he's in the hoosegow for the rest of his life."

o o o

"So you did the wiring, that's right, Mr. Catmull?" Bobby's business space was like the other cookie-cutter places along the main drag, a storefront with a big glass front window and a utility space upstairs that most folks used as apartments. He had one of the smaller, partitioned, single-occupancy spaces, sharing his building with a small plumbing shop.

The interior was almost like the inside of a music store, hung with the many instruments Bobby could play, with spares, some broken ones, a lot of sound equipment, and photos of events he had been involved with. The sheriff and deputy stood in front of the glass counter, with Bobby behind it. "I wired only the sound system. I looked in on the wiring for the building but only to get it connected to power the sound system. Sharla also worked a little with it, to get the local Wi-Fi working and connect the satellite internet system."

"You don't have your certification. That's worth a ticket at least, especially if your shoddy wiring burned the place down," Buck snorted, tapping on the counter.

"I didn't do any work that required I be certified. Or... I mean, I'm certified for the work I did. I'm up on my qualification to work with sound systems and other electrical amplification devices," Bobby countered.

"We're just here to determine a few things. I'm almost entirely positive your work had nothing to do with it, but we need to know if anything you saw has a bearing on the case," Beatrix said.

"I didn't really notice much. My head was sort of out of it in general and was sort of just listening to the audio mixing. Everyone has their own voice. When it comes out of the speaker it has to be theirs, but polished up. If they talk softly you boost the bass a little to make it more notable. If they're shrill, save your speakers by cutting some treble. Even speeches take a delicate touch. Jenny was on the board, she has the touch. Those long ears of her are perfect. Golden. They pick up the tiniest details in a sound."

"I'd like to at least talk to her, even if she was focused. There's no harm in getting all the perspectives I can," Beatrix noted.

"Well... alright. I..." Bobby sighed, and motioned for the officers to follow him. He led them outside and around back, to the stairs up to the living area. "She's been pretty shaken up. She's just taking a day, playing her harp, writing a little something for herself."

The home space was just like most of the main drag homes of Bunnyburrow, a large central room with attached kitchen, and doors to the bathroom and bedroom. Jenny was sitting on the second-paw couch, slightly huddled up. Her hooves deftly worked the strings of her small harp, and she sang with a low voice, at the level of the soft strings.

" _The King gave a smile and held his son near._

 _He kissed his head proudly to quell his dark fear._

 _'Oh father, my father, I know what to do,_

 _But father, my father, I'm nothing like you._

 _I know of the form and how it must look,_

 _But I never took time to learn from the book._

 _I thought that I knew but still had to ask._

 _I could not, alone, take on this great task.'_

 _The King raised his head and looked in his eyes_

 _And spoke light and low to not seem to chastise._

 _'Now son, my dear son, I know you are wise_

 _You never will falter in your father's eyes._

 _He who goes alone will end in disgrace,_

 _But who seeks help of others gains a noble place.'"_

Bobby softly kissed Jenny on one ear and purred deeply. "Hey, that's beautiful, dear."

Beatrix had been preparing her notepad but slipped it back into her pocket and nodded to the two. "I'm terribly sorry to have bothered you both. Miss Thicket, I hope you have a speedy recovery from anything that may have happened. You sing and play beautifully."

"Uh, yeah, yeah, good... uh... bye..." Buck followed Beatrix out, looking utterly confused. "What was that, Sheriff? You didn't even ask her a question."

"Didn't have to. Did you hear the song? You remember what Sharla said, Bobby'd die before he put Jenny in danger. We all kept speculating that he had his father come in and give his wiring job a look, and, being Ol' Tom Catmull, he checked the **whole** barn for free, probably giving some excuse about making sure all the connections were solid. And Bobby would come along to see how it all was supposed to look. He'd check out every inch of that place, every time. He'd know if there was overt sabotage. That seals it. It can't be electrical, which would have been cruelly clever. Splash on the accellerant, and just wait for the electrical fire to set it off."

"Why can't this be easy?" Buck lamented.

"If it was easy we'd be out of a job. Not that I wouldn't prefer that, but as long as we have crimes, we have to solve them, and fast," Beatrix said, sliding into the cruiser. "We should see to the Dreysons, at some point. But let's head to Weaselton's first."

"Weaselton?" Buck asked, dropping into his seat. "What's Old Hob Weaselton got to do with this?"

"His daughter's on the list. Lone-jilling, I'm guessing," Beatrix said, putting the car into gear and driving the short distance to the shop. "I heard she caught a yelling from her father before."

"Think he'd go... very far? Angry weasel, he can get a little hot under the collar," Buck noted.

"He'll work up a weasel war dance very rarely but he's one of the more stable citizens around here," Beatrix replied pulling in to the small parking lot.

"Welcome to _Weaselton's Wares_. We're not new, we're not improved, we're not rearranged. Why mess with..?" Meister halted his rote speech on noticing who had come in. "Oh, hello there Sheriff, deputy. Come in to pick up some protein powder and tinned fish? Got plenty of both. We can't always eat at the Martens' place."

"Protein powder and tinned..? What in the glorious sun's name do you mean?" Buck asked.

"Not today, Meister, we're on official business right now. Understand you threw a little woozle at your daughter over a bit of lone-jilling," Beatrix said, taking out her pad and pencil.

"Ah, I try to be sensible with that jill, especially with her mother being gone. She isn't a bad jill, she's just willful and stubborn. Heh, takes after her mother like that."

"Just how mad can you get, Meister? She won't mind you, and you warned her, a lot," Buck said. "You don't strike me as the kind, Meister, but being all on your own can make a mammal want a lot of respect."

"It's hard, yes. But I don't care how much she disrespects me. She's still my daughter, and she still means all the moon to me. I'm just glad she was safe."

"Is she here today, taking stock or something?" Beatrix asked. "We're interviewing everyone that could have had any insights."

"It's just me, today. She's at home, getting her head on. The Hopps buck is there with her, probably catering to her every whim. Hard worker, that one, but he just goes along with what she says, even off the clock. I'm not going to fire him if he doesn't tend to her, but he just wants to, I guess. One of those always-active types like Mr. Marten."

"The Hoppses seem to breed those, just look at Judy," Beatrix mumbled, scribbling out a few more notes before flipping her book closed. "I'd ask more but... I think we both know why we were here, and there's no reason to go on from here."

"I couldn't hurt her, Sheriff, never mind all those others. Good mammals, all of them. I might chitter and dance and maybe I can be a woozle once in a blue moon. But I can't be just plain mean."

"That's why we're on our way. Take care, Meister. I'll be around to pick up supplies later on this week," Beatrix said, walking back out onto the street with a sigh. "We've got more dead ends than a cemetery."

"Fish and protein powder?" Buck asked. "I get it, you want to bulk up, good strategy in law enforcement but fish?"

"Not the time for it. Let's plan something out. I say we hit the Dreysons tomorrow, on our way out into Squirrelburrow. I noticed that Travis didn't open today. Not surprised, Jaguar and Dr. Arctos are probably taking a day. I can smell that Gideon is open, so we'll go there, then the Real Estate company to talk to the O'Pogos, out to the Marten's shop, then bother the lab about results."

The two cervids strolled up the street and pushed open the door to **Gideon Ovine's Real Good Baked Stuff** , wrapping them in the warm scent of freshly-baked pastry and the symphony of sweet and savory fillings. An odd note had been added to the usual mix, the scent of fish and insects mingling with the fruits and vegetables. The store was oddly empty, only Gideon and Kenneth talking at the front counter.

"I'll have two of the paw-held pasties, one radish and one with that new fish aspic you started using," Kenneth said in a slightly subdued tone. "And I'll take two big wedges of pie, one with plum and blueberry with a slice of cheese melted on the top, and one with carrots and the lemon goop."

"Lotta food fer one bunny. Takin' some fer yer kin?" Gideon asked, deftly cutting the wedges required, carrying one into the back.

"It's too quiet. The office is closed, Sylvia's doing her own thing, the bosses are taking care of their own matters. Food seems like a good way to brings some pep back to life. I'm taking some to Jake, he probably needs a good meal while he's helping out Princess Weaselton."

"Well, that's jes how he is, lotta good in him what with... oh, Sheriff, jes a second..." Gideon came back around to the front, carrying the pie slice with cheese lightly bubbling on top. He packed it in a box, along with the other pie wedge and the pasties. He rang up the total, took the money and waved as Kenneth left the shop. "So what can I do for ya both?"

"Well, you've had a good night's sleep, gotten your head together, you seem to be working and open, maybe you thought of something else. We were in the area and figured we ought to see," Beatrix said.

"I know ya got yer job, Sheriff, but I really don't got any new ideas. Maybe I'm jes too simple, but I didn't see nothin' but everyone escapin'. And I helped them out," Gideon said, leaning on the counter, one ear occasionally twitching in the direction of the kitchen.

"Most of the others are taking the day off. You're here, working hard and seems you made something new, if that fish smell is anything to go on," Buck noted.

"The Church tells us our toil makes the Sun and Earth mean more. The Sun shines on good days and bad, it's there shinin' behind rainclouds and on the other side of the Earth at night. And the Earth holds up our paws and cradles our food no matter what kinda day it had. I'd be squanderin' a gift if I didn't focus and carry on, an' work on new things that I said I would," Gideon explained.

"Aurinko ja Maa siunatkoon sinua, Gideon," Beatrix said, nodding her antlered head. "You really understand. That therapy really put your head on right."

"Maybe, maybe I just don't work right upstairs... don't tell Sharla I said that, but it's true. Little slow, but she's right that I get there sooner or later," Gideon said with a smile. "Can I get ya anythin'? Can't imagine bein' in here smellin' all this goodness is easy to take."

"That fish smell..." Buck shook his head a little and huffed. "It interrupts the usual smell but you're the best. Let me have a timothy tart. Anything with fescue back there?"

"Sorry, not today. I know it's popular but the fruit and vegetables have a bigger audience. Sharla's a browser too, so I think I know what ya got a taste for. Sheriff?"

"I'll have the same. Do you have any candied juniper berries or lingonberry sauce? Maybe reindeer lichen, while I'm asking?"

"Ain't got the lichen, don't have the connections for that kinda thing, but I've got both. I keep candied juniper jes fer you, Sheriff, and I love me some lingonberries. If I could get a better supply I'd make more with em but the Hoppses have got their paws full, the Dreysons don't do shrubbery and the Seedcache farm... Mr. Seedcache don't like doin' business with me," Gideon said, packing the indicated treats into paper bags, adding some shakes of crystalline juniper berries from a jar and a drizzle of a thick, red syrup over the second pastry he packed. "Thanks fer the business."

"Get a bigger vent in here. I know aromas are your selling point but fish is a little jarring for most prey," Buck noted as he paid for his tart. He took a big bite and wagged his ears happily. "That's the stuff."

"You get used to it. Change is good sometimes," Beatrix noted, paying for her food and taking a smaller bite. "Ahhh, just like when I visited my grandparents. It's an acquired taste but candied things aren't a hard sell, are they?"

Gideon chuckled softly. "No ma'am. I can candy anythin' and it sells like flapjacks. I throw together one mean panettone, now that I know what it is, and my friends jes eat it up. Maybe gonna sell em 'round Solstice time like they do in Lombardy. Ya might think that citrus peel weren't good eating but stick it in enough sugar syrup and it gets there."

"I know it. Mummi made something like it every year and even when I couldn't go she sent me a nice, big wedge just so I didn't miss out," Breatrix said, a smile on her face. "Thank you, Gideon." She and Buck stepped out of the shop, still eating. "You'd better be ready for more fish, we do have to talk to the Martens after we see the O'Pogos."

"Speaking of fish..." Buck started, mouth still slightly full.

"You can ask all you want, but unless I feel like saying anything you're just wasting your breath, and making a mess. I thought country folks learned manners."

Buck caught himself and quickly finished crewing his mouthful. "It's just an odd thing to do is all. I mean, often enough that old hob Weaselton knows you need it."

"We all keep things private. I know you think fangs are fascinating, tusks too. You certainly read a lot of magazines with warthog ladies on the cover, and that one library book about sabertoothed rabbits made more than a few appearances."

"I have a variety of varied interests," Buck huffed. "Anyhow, what can we ask that we don't already know? Witnesses aren't likely to be helpful if everyone was inside."

"It's the subtleties that matter. A sound, a smell, maybe noticing some things that got washed away by the firefighters. We won't know what's relevant until we gather all the data and sift through it. Maybe we don't always go so far, but this is a special case. Arson is bad enough but it was a barn full of mammals, and much as you might dismiss the idea it seems probable they were targeted for a very particular reason, and that is plain unacceptable. We're going to hit this case as hard as we possibly can and get justice for those folks. Nothing less will do," Breatrix said with great firmness, turning into the real estate office and casting her eyes around for Pepper or Zeke O'Pogo.

"Sheriff, thought you might be by," Pepper said, without her usual energy. She emerged from her cubicle followed by her husband, who seemed similarly off. "It's kind of a downer day today."

"Wouldn't blame you for not coming in at all, Pepper. Some of the folks didn't. What brought you and the mister in today?" Beatrix asked.

"I'd like to say the Peaceground way. Maybe a little but it's a hard reality to face, I need to be here," Pepper sighed. "I don't get paid for doing nothing. I get paid when I sell property. Zeke too. But really... plenty and prosperity have to come by some means. Our bounty comes by our hard work. Peace and plenty only arrive when we make the effort and do something."

"We're not complaining but a rest wouldn't be bad," Zeke sighed. "I wish we could be of some help but it's a little rushed around here today. We're helping each other with the little things because Rob's out."

"Out? What do you mean out?" Beatrix asked.

"He didn't show up for work. Probably ended up taking the day off just in solidarity or something. At least that what he'd say," Pepper said. "Don't spread it around too far but Rob's not what you'd call really motivated. He's no Kenneth or Judy or Jake. The Hopps hop skipped him I think. He works well enough but he's not exactly a superstar."

"He probably slept in and just went with it. _Good sleep_ is tempting like that," Buck said with particular emphasis.

"Your implication is noted and slightly annoying, deputy," Beatrix said with a light chuckle. "I do still want to know if you noticed anything, anything at all. A smell, a sound, anything before that, like more pressure or hostility toward the group or anyone in it."

"There's always anonymous cowards leaving notes and such, calling us unnatural and evil. It's gotta be the same mammal every time," Pepper stated. "Travis keeps those just in case there's something that can be done with them; it sounds like we've got purists in these parts."

"Purists? Those don't exist in civilized society. That's a crazy idea for crazy mammals, somebody they'd lock up at Imboca Bay," Buck insisted.

"Outside of town, isolated, everyone distracted, sounds like the kind of situation a cowardly purist would exploit. This is some good stuff," Beatrix said. "We'll let you get back to work. Tomorrow we can see Travis about these letters when we pop by the Dreyson place. This has a lot of potential. If there is some deranged purist out there we might just have our firebug."

"Sweet sun-kissed earth... we got another Slashy-Smiley killer. Came right out of nowhere, right in the Burrows," Buck half-whispered, a distant look in his eyes.

"They haven't killed anyone yet but sun and earth knows they tried. Tried to out-do that crazy savage in one shot, but didn't make it. We'll see how this goes. Just one more stop before we can head back. Tomorrow we need to see about out-of-town stuff, contact some of the other deputies at the substations. Get all the sleep you need tonight, Buck. Tomorrow we really get into the hard work."

 **Author's Notes**

 **The Sheriff Station Decor-** This is subtle, but I wanted the rustic Americana and tile floors to subtly evoke a bit of _Twin Peaks_ because I enjoy that show very much. A quirky small town filled with odd characters. I considered a Northern Exposure reference but that would have been a bit tougher to make.

 **Old this, Old that-** I may be overdoing it a bit, but fathers/old heads of families in rural settings seem to have the appellation "Old" applied to them, to differentiate them from younger folks, especially sons that might have the same name. Here, they also add the common animal term. So no, Bobby's father isn't named Tom, he is a tom, a tomcat. Hob is one term I found for a male weasel, like jill is for a female.

 **Weasel War Dance-** Just look this up on YouTube. It's adorable.

 **Woozle-** A _Cute_ -level word that weasels are mostly okay with others using as they can use the comment for reflection and self-improvement, as it usually only gets used by folks when they act in a negative way.

 **Cheese on pie-** It's a thing. An East Coast thing, apparently. I first saw it when Amos Tupper ordered apple pie with melted cheese in an episode of _Murder, She Wrote_.

 **Imboca Bay-** This is a callback to "The Translation of Dawn Bellwether". While set in an slightly alternate timeline major things are the same, like institutions and inhabitants. Imboca Bay is the name of a high security asylum for the insane. Spoiler alert, but after Doug is arrested he's sent there for being an unfeeling sociopath.


	7. On The Trail

I do not own Zootopia, that belongs to Disney. This a fan work made solely for the sake of amusement.

 **Interspecies Relationship Support Network- Tri-Burrow Chapter**

 **Chapter Seven: On The Trail**

 **By: Gabriel LaVedier**

The next morning, very early, the main Sheriff station was active, at least in the sense someone was in there. Buck was blearily punching buttons on the well-preserved coffee maker, setting the water to steaming and filling the place with the warm scent of a strong brew.

Buck prepared himself a high-walled mug with the logo of _Weaselton's Wares_ on the side. Coffee, Dreyson pecan milk and a heaping spoon of sugar. He sipped from it and shook in a little extra sugar, finally liking what he tasted. He made his way back to his desk and started digging in the mess for anything to nibble on.

"I thought mammals only went forging when they went on Ranger Scout trips," Beatrix said with a chuckle in her voice.

"This was a surprise, I'm never the first one here in the morning, and I'm earlier than usual even," Buck noted, preparing the sheriff's coffee in her usual mug, which had the face of a black-and-white cartoon wolf in a classical early-inkblot style.

"I'm always up and around early. But you know who else starts early? Bakers," Beatrix laughed, holding up a box from Gideon's bakery. "And I laid into you pretty good to come in early so I knew you'd be here without breakfast. Gideon had fescue today, so I got you a filled pancake and another timothy tart."

"Ahh, much obliged, Sheriff," Buck said, going over and leaving off the coffee, taking the pastry she offered in exchange. He went back to his desk, sitting and eating rather quietly, taking his time with the food and his coffee.

Beatrix stood by her desk, sipping her coffee and seeming to be waiting. Buck was going to ask about food when the station door opened up and a cheerful male voice called out, "Breakfast for Bea is served! Here you are, kultaseni, fresh from my oven to you." Through the gate into the back area of the station walked a wolf, with a puffy, almost curly, strawberry blonde coat. He was small, thin, looking gangly and weak, with delicate features. He was wearing jeans and a plain blue tee, with an apron that looked like it was growing soft moss. In one hand he carried a basket of muffins.

Beatrix laughed softly as she approached the wolf, who stood a head smaller than her, and kissed him softly on the forehead. "Prompt as ever, rakastettu. I never want for anything when you're here. It's why I almost never have to have my own breakfast." She took up one of the muffins and took a big bite. "Mmm, delicious. Lingonberry, mint, cricket... you got a citron? Where did you get a citron?"

"Oh I cheated a little. I prefer to give you fresh things but I used some jarred citron syrup, and Mr. Ovine gave me some candied citron peels. He buys them in bulk and was kind enough to let me have a little to sprinkle in," the wolf said with a bright smile. "I know that Seedcache orchards in Squirrelburrow has a small citron grove but Mr. Seedcache isn't a friendly fellow."

"We're going there today. I'll get him to sell me a few just for you," Beatrix said, planting another kiss on the wolf's forehead.

"Uh... sheriff..?" Buck finally spoke up, rising from behind his desk. "I... uh... I didn't know you were a chomper-romper."

"Deputy, you get exactly one of those before I kick your tiny tail into the next county," Beatrix warned, with a snort concluding her words.

"Sorry! Sorry... Outsider; I think that's the word those fancy Zootopians like to say. Who is this? I mean, he looks familiar but I don't know him."

Beatrix sighed. "I should have known this would happen. He comes in way before you come in to bring me breakfast. Deputy, this is Rimpssie Specsson, he's from out by the border to Predburrow, where my family lives. There's a little Nortic community there where the immigrants settled. His family is from where mine is."

"I have... just so many questions. Why aren't you part of the Network? It seems like, well..."

"We're being quiet about it, because I'm elected, and the voters can be fickle," Beatrix responded.

"I've told only a few, who can keep a secret, like the Ovines," Rimpssie added.

"And while support is good, all I need is him. And our families. Both our families give us all the support we could possibly need," Beatrix concluded.

"Really? You mean... both of them? But... you're Outsiders. Families usually take some time to be okay with that, or they're just unusual like the Dreysons and the Hoppses."

"It's complicated. It's less about the species and more about the strength..." Beatrix considered things carefully. "In our community the husband and wife should complement each other. Where one is weak, the other must be strong to form a full and complete household. They have to support one another however they can. Rimpssie's parents lamented him actually finding a wife because most wolves demand strength and forwardness from a male. When they found out I was interested they threw dowry at my family in the form of heirlooms and tribute ballads. His father is something of a skald and thought it would encourage me to keep seeing him. As if I need it."

"They like to say _Jos olet skr_ _æ_ _ling, naida Valkyrie_ in the packs. It's... it's not very kind in a broader sense but they mean so well when they say it it's kind of oddly charming. They really do want the best for me. In their estimation I need a strong doe because I'm not a very forceful wolf. That's fine. Beatrix is that," Rimpssie said, ears folding as they went pink.

"If we weren't suited to each other it might be a problem but we started dating first, then they got involved. It's a lot of fuss but it's fine," Beatrix said, digging in the basket and pulling out something that resembled a yellowish slice of brain. "Aww, you want me to have this too? Are you sure?"

Buck spilled his coffee as he shot up from his chair, staring wide-eyed at the thing. "Okay! Okay! You're eating bugs, I get it it. Weird. But that's a brain! Where did you get a brain?"

Beatrix shook her head slowly. "Deputy, you may be too high-and-mighty and fancy to eat bug but you know well that cervids do it. Can't get grass without bugs. And we can eat fish too, it's just less common. Some of us still enjoy getting protein from something besides beans and nuts. And as for this... it **is** a brain. A _tree brain_! It's called a sulfur shelf, it grows on rotting trees and when picked at the right time and cooked it's slightly lemony and delicious. Rimpssie has the delicate and careful touch required to tend and grow them, because these are difficult to grow intentionally."

Buck sopped up the slight coffee spill and huffed at the slight laughter at his expense. "I don't eat fungi, not that kind. I wouldn't know. He's a predator. It could have been a giant fish brain. Fish... oh, that explain what Weaselton said. Protein powder and fish. Buying him food."

"It's part of the courtship process," Beatrix said with a roll of her eyes. "It's silly and overly traditional but it's a thing, even though both families want this to happen. As the stronger one, I have to perform a certain number of _provider_ actions, bringing meat and other food of a certain amount. Some weekends I fish but I usually just go to Weaselton's to get some cans. I guess it's charming from a certain perspective."

"Guess I can see why you rode me so hard over the things I said while I was sleep deprived and snippy," Buck said.

"No, I did it because we have a job, a job I take very seriously. We have a duty to the citizens of the Tri-Burrows, and that duty may as well be a sacred oath to the sun and earth. That I happen to agree with those folks is secondary. It's our job and we need to do it to the best of our abilities," Beatrix said, sternly.

"I know, I know..." Buck grumbled, going over to the coffee pot for a top-off.

"We're going to be very busy today," Beatrix said, kissing Rimpssie on the lips and giving him a squeeze that lifted his paws off the ground. "We need to head out to see that nasty Mr. Seedcache. I'll come back with some citrons for you, I promise."

Rimpssie's tail went wild, wagging rapidly as he hugged against Beatrix. "Thank you, kultaseni! Don't forget we have dinner with my family tonight. Some of my other relatives are coming to see you. They don't think a strong woman wants to marry me. Will you be kind to them? They only want the best for me."

"Oh they're so blunt and ridiculous. But they're going to be my family, too. I guess I can be nice," Beatrix said with a grin, giving Rimpssie another kiss on the lips before setting him back down. "I'll see you tonight, rakastettu."

"Want some time for your muffins or should we go?" Buck asked, finishing off his own pastry and some of his new cup of coffee.

"Might go faster if you helped. My Rimpssie is a cook close to on par to Gideon Ovine. Nothing against you, rakastettu. He's just a professional."

Buck pulled a disgusted face and waved the offer off. "I'll stick to the fescue, thanks."

Beatrix shook her head and bit into another muffin, passing one to Rimpssie, who chowed down eagerly, taking a sip from Breatrix's mug. "Fancy roe..."

o o o

"I'm not going to deputize your sons to go out and beat other mammals!" Later that morning, at the Dreyson tree-stand manor, Beatrix and Buck were standing at the base, calling up to the heavyset form of Big Daddy Dreyson at his usual relaxing patio at the front of the house.

"Gotta get results, Sheriff! My family is under attack and we need answers!" Big Daddy cried back.

"A lot of families were under attack! Should the Sheriff deputize the Ovines and the Catmulls and the O'Pogos? What about the Martens? Do you want that muscle-mouse Martin Marten with legal power and a license to beat anyone that he likes?" Buck yelled up.

"If it helps!" Big Daddy loudly replied.

"Ebeneezer Russell Dreyson! Hush up now!" A loud, shrill voice called from the interior of the manor. "Stop bothering the Sheriff and let her do her job!"

Big Daddy winced and slumped his shoulders. "Yes, Lucille... sorry, Sheriff. But I want this matter resolved."

"And we want it resolved as well, that's why we need to talk to Travis, Ermintrude, Jules and Will. They might know more than they realize," Beatrix explained.

"And don't forget Peony. She's still here," Big Daddy noted.

"Peony Seedcache? We have to go see Mr. Seedcache because her name was on the list. Why is she still here?" Beatrix asked, taking out her pad and pencil.

"Oh she's just not eager to get home. I told her daddy that she was over here doing girly things with Ermintrude. He wasn't very happy about that but he just accepted it. He just wants a child to have a child, I suppose. He's such a mean mammal," Lucille called, poking her head out of a window. She was another fox squirrel, much lighter in coat color than her husband, but with the mix of softness and musculature that showed her daughter strongly took after her.

"That's what I keep hearing," Beatrix said. "Are they all in today?"

"Well, Ermintrude went off with Travis, he's back in the office. Jules is out in the orchards, he likes to work things out physically, little like Mr. Marten. But Will and Peony are here. Lucille, can ya get 'em fer the Sheriff, please?"

"Happy to, nectar-drop," Lucille sweetly replied, vanishing from the window and scurrying off into the interconnected network of built-up trees.

A short time later the front doors opened letting out Will, in a white undershirt and jeans, and Peony Seedcache. She was a lovely chipmunk with golden-toned fur, like a lighter and more glossy version of Jenny Thicket's honey-fawn coat color. Her cream front and dorsal stripes of charcoal and ivory were largely hidden away by a simple aqua blouse with puffed sleeves and a pleated seafoam skirt that went to her knees.

"Mr. Dreyson, Miss Seedcache, I need to ask questions about what happened the other night, if you feel alright about telling me," Beatrix said.

"I think we're alright. I guess I was just lingering with Peony because I could," Will admitted.

"And I didn't really want to go home..." Peony began saying.

"It's not that interesting out there. Not all Burrows are created equal," Will finished.

"Right! It's way more interesting out here. Plus... I have Will," Peony cooed, nuzzling up along the side of Will's face, having to stretch to do it, given the physical difference between a chipmunk and a fox squirrel.

"Did you two happen to notice anything unusual that night? Smell anything or see anything or even hear anything?" Buck asked.

"I was distracted, rushing Peony to safety and seeing that my sister and brothers got out," Will noted.

"I was super scared but there was something familiar cutting through the smoke. I don't know what, but it was really sharp, made me sick a little bit. Like paint stripper or nail polish remover. I don't wear nail polish because getting rid of it can make me throw up really easily," Peony answered.

Buck and Beatrix shared a glance and nodded. Beatrix said, "Well, we were heading out to your home to ask about anything like that, but now we can give you a ride. I think it's time you went home. We can talk to your father about the Network, ask him..."

"No!" Peony squeaked, clapping her paws over her mouth and looking guilty, ear interiors burning red. "I don't think he needs to know about that. He has enough problems running the orchards on his own. He doesn't need more stress."

"Well now... then we'll ask more general questions, because like it or not it was a major matter. Plus I need to see him about some fruit."

"Do you think you can manage?" Will asked.

"I'll be fine, Will. I'm his daughter. He'll get snippy and huffy but he won't do anything else," Peony said, reaching up to kiss Will on the cheek.

"Okay..." Will whispered, his voice giving a soft quiver, while his tail puffed just a touch. "I'll see you later. Call Ermintrude and we can talk."

They led her along to their Pride Simoom and settled her into the back seat. "Sorry about the bars, but, you know, standard modifications on a cop car," Buck apologized.

"I understand. The lack of seat belts is more of a concern..." Peony said, settling in as best as she could in the big backseat.

"Another consequence of a law enforcement vehicle. Can't have too many things back there that a criminal can use. We don't design these things, just use them, and we're lucky to have this," Beatrix noted, setting off town the road toward Squirrelburrow.

"Just... how _mean_ is mean?" Buck whispered across to Beatrix.

"You know old tod Grey? Drunk, angry, nearly ruined the nicest baker we ever had in the Tri-Burrows? He's mean. But he's open about it, so in a sense, he's not cruel. You know what he's about. But I get the impression, just the idea mind you, that Seedcache is the kind to be frosty but approachable, make you work and work for respect that he doesn't give. He's cold and greedy, and fake as a three buck bill," Beatrix whispered back.

"Fake... that's one strong word," Buck muttered. "Never seen a mammal that was fake like that."

"They're more city things, really dishonest for the sake of their own ego and pockets. Now that's mean," Beatrix whispered back, looking at Peony in the rear view mirror. "Poor pup. She didn't do anything wrong. She's just worried that her father won't approve of being in a group that he doesn't like. He must rule her life completely."

"I'm surprised we've got something like that and I never knew," Buck said softly.

"Sometimes we don't want to see. It's sad but true. Don't get blindsided, or else, you know. Slashy-Smiley killer. Just keep your ears up and eyes open. This might be an important stop."

It didn't take all that long to reach the destination, the Dreyson property being somewhat near the border to Squirrelburrow, while the main homestead of the Seedcache family was near the border in a similar way. They passed the well-ordered rows of trees until they made the turn into the front drive, approaching a tree manor similar to the Dreysons' but smaller and with less impressive trees.

When the car came to a stop the front door opened up and a maid emerged. She was a very, very small woman, another cervine, though one of a form that was unusual to the two. She was a basic brown color, light in hue with a very velvety look to the coat. She was dressed in a typical maid outfit, a black-and-white dress that fell to her ankles, with a lace hat perched between her ears. The one thing that was most surprising was from the side of her mouth protruded two very prominent, pearly white fangs.

"Kyaosopartaal, Officers," the doe said with a strong accent, bowing deeply to them. "Thank you for bringing Daw Peony. Hrang Seedcache has been very worried about her."

Both the officers looked on in some confusion, though Buck quite openly looked at her prominent fangs. "They're very good law enforcers. They saw I needed a ride and offered," Peony said, smiling at the doe. "Oh, Sheriff, Deputy, this is our new maid. Dad hired her in Zootopia because her size was perfect for the manor."

The maid smiled up at the two. "Ma Hayma Arwat Sanda. Ah, Miss Hayma Arwat Sanda. I carry a family line with me. Hayma is my grandmother and Sanda is my mother. We all live in Vineland in Zootopia. This is a very new experience for me."

Buck smoothly stepped forward and smiled. "Deputy Roeberts, ma'am, Buck Roeberts. I must say, you're very unique. I love that accent and your... your tusks are interesting. Excuse my indelicacy but are you... part something?"

Hayma laughed softly, shaking her head. "No, no Deputy. This is all me. I am what is called a leaf muntjac, the smallest of the muntjac kind."

"And it looks very good on you, ma'am," Buck said with a wide smile.

Beatrix lightly nudged Buck and chuckled. "At least you're focused on someone appropriate. Miss Sanda we need to speak with your employer about a matter that transpired in Bunnyburrow a few nights ago."

"I heard," said a cold, stentorian voice from inside the manor. Following it came another chipmunk, a tall, thin, grave-looking fellow with dull fur. He had on gold-rimmed glasses and a gray tweed suit. "A burning barn full of folk that would be better off doing more proper activities. There are more refined pastimes."

"That's hardly your place to say, Mr. Seedcache. This is an active investigation of an unforgivable act," Beatrix said, firmly.

Mr. Seedcache snorted and waved a paw. "Thank you for returning my daughter. I'm not very happy about her choosing to spend so much time with that Ermintrude Dreyson but at least she's interested in maintaining the prominence of the family. Such a large and powerful family is important. Imperfect, but important. Making connections is vital."

"Right. Well, that imperfect family has had a most unfortunate tragedy," Beatrix firmly said.

"No one dead or injured. Your definitions are curious indeed, sheriff. Aren't you allocating too much in the way of resources to a harmless accident? I mean, your dedication is admirable but the voters might well ask questions about how you apportion your time and focus," Mr. Seedcache said, smoothly, coolly and evenly.

"Right, mean..." Buck whispered to Beatrix.

"Daddy, the sheriff was very nice, she brought me home rather than having me walk the whole way," Peony said, strolling up to her father and giving him a hug, which was not immediately returned.

"Yes... I suppose that was very kind. It's near midday. Please, let's have some lunch. It's the least I can do."

"That's the truth," Buck mumbled.

"Normally I'd turn that down but I would like to ask some things and it seems harmless enough," Beatrix said, following along as everyone moved to walk around to the back of the tree manor.

A long table had been set up outside, sized for guests that were much above the size of the Seedcaches. It was quickly laid out for all those present, including elaborate and expensive-looking boosters and elevated place settings for Peony and her father.

Mr. Seedcache clapped his paws and snapped his fingers. "My new servant prepares food suited for her own kind from her culture. No disrespect but I keep no other kinds of food in my home besides my own produce or similar things. Why enrich anyone else unless I have to? Hayma, bring the fruit and nut salad for myself and Peony. Would you care for the same, sheriff? It's far more... proper."

"I think I'll try something new. It's not a big deal for me," Beatrix said, staring directly into Mr. Seedcache's eyes.

"O-oh yeah! I'm sure I'll love anything you can bring," Buck said with a huge smile on his snout.

"Hutkai, hrang," Hayma said with a low bow. "Excuse the time taken, kya ma prefers to cook from fresh." She bounded away swiftly, into the manor.

"She speaks quite nicely," Buck sighed, supporting his head on his fists and watching where she went.

"Manners are quite... flexible in the Burrows I suppose," Mr. Seedcache said, obliquely.

Beatrix cleared her throat softly and pointed to Buck's elbows. He slipped a bit and quickly pulled his arms back to his side.

Some time just after noon Hayma emerged from the manor, pushing a large food trolley. She served Mr. Seedcache first, setting down a plate of shelled walnuts and acorns, and peeled and sectioned tangerines. Peony received a similar plate, though her tangerines were replaced with oranges and pomegranate arils. Before both Beatrix and Buck she set down plates filled with noodles, mixed with some kind of sauce and a mish-mash of vegetables and some unknown elements. She also settled down bowls of rice by their plates. Everyone was given glasses of water, and she bowed to them. "I hope you enjoy."

"She can play a... some kind of harp thing. What is it?" Mr. Seedcache asked.

"Kya ma plays the saung, hrang. Would it be welcome for the delight of these guests?" Hayma asked.

"Now, now, Miss Hayma, that's not fair to you. I can see you didn't set a place for yourself. I'd be an unmannerly mammal if I didn't offer you a place by my side and ask you to share off my plate. It seems like a lot and you can tell me all about it," Buck insisted, standing up awkwardly and pulling a vacant chair right beside his own, held out for her.

"O-Oh, thank you, Deputy," Hayma said, ears swiveling down as the insides darkened. She demurely stepped forward and settled down onto the chair, turning her head aside shyly as he pushed the chair in and sat down himself.

"Your Deputy is a bit presumptuous. Can't quite get your own employees in line, Sheriff? Management is an important skill, you know," Mr. Seedcache said, with a guarded smugness.

"He's a kind buck, more or less. Lots of manners and propriety in him," Beatrix retorted, tucking into her dish with some will, eyes going wide as the scents and flavors mixed, as they were quite familiar to her.

"Thanks for the good word, Sheriff," Buck said while a smile, stirring up the noodles with some of the vegetables and other pieces. He cautiously ate them, chewing slowly and contemplatively. "Mm, very... new. Seems familiar somehow but I can't place some of this."

"The dish is called khauk swè thoke, a very popular one in my family. We make it with fresh wheat noodles, and shredded vegetables. I use a mix of cabbage, carrots, parsnips and radishes. And I can't forget the dried shrimp and thinly cut dried fish. It's the real secret to why it's so good."

Buck stopped chewing his third mouthful for a moment, fighting his own reaction. Fish. It had been fish he smelled. He was eating fish, with vegetables. What was worse, in his estimation, was that it wasn't sickening him. It settled well in his stomach, without a quiver. "First time I ever tried fish. And these are some delicious vegetables. I thought he said he didn't get any."

"He never buys any," Hayma corrected. "Hrang has many mammals over sometimes, who listen to him speak. He used to entertain important mammals from Zootopia, so Daw Peony tells, but they stopped coming, but that was fine. She didn't like them; they frightened her. I feel sorry for the poor girl, these new mammals are not kind either. She spends so much time in Bunnyburrow because of this. One of them brings foods and Hrang only too happily takes them, has me cook with them. He... he needs to pay me less because he generously feeds me."

Buck bit back a hateful comment and smothered it down with more of the dish. "Why do you call him that?"

Hayma shrugged and picked at the plate, coming up with a shrimp and some of the vegetables. "Habit. It's something I was taught, to show respect for an employer. It's an old word, it means 'lord' or something like it. It's just a tradition. He hired me because I was small enough to fit his home and I was serving as a waitress in a restaurant he went to in Zootopia. He seemed strange then as now. Oddly uncomfortable with others. I have heard him say when Daw Peony comes home from visiting with the Dreysons that she should cultivate business connections but, like he explains in his talks, stay with her sort."

While Buck and Hayma spoke in low tones, Beatrix spoke with Mr. Seedcache. "I hear you have citrons, sir. I'd like to buy a few of them."

"Really now, Sheriff? A whole official trip to buy some fruit?" Mr. Seedcache huffed incredulously and shook his head. "What waste. What excess."

"I knew I was coming here, I knew you had citrons, I know I wanted them. That's efficiency and forward-thinking. I'm much more on top of certain things than you might think," Beatrix retorted.

"But why come here, besides to deliver my daughter? She had nothing to do with that. Surely she had no connection to that... degenerate organization. What has happened to our fine Tri-Burrows area?"

"It got rich, got popular, and got famous thanks to Judy Hopps. It raises our profile and puts more bucks in our pockets. A rising tide and all that," Beatrix calmly noted, eating her noodles with all the refinement she could muster.

"Some things should stay in the city, the Hopps doe included. She's gone completely Zootopian. It wouldn't surprise me if she joined that church they have there, like her odd brother. The Solaterra church is a good and proper organization."

"It certainly did a lot of good for Gideon Ovine. He was in that fire, helping folks escape. You want good and proper, there's a Tri-Burrow citizen of quality."

"If you say so. That still doesn't explain why you chose to come here aside from delivering my daughter, which tells me you were at the Dreyson homestead with that bloated lout Ebeneezer. Is he still insisting everyone call him Big Daddy and sleeping his productive days away on his patio?"

"He's still a real character, and good for him," Beatrix chuckled. "Yes, I was there, asking questions. I'd been meaning to talk to you about some things but I think I don't need to go down the same line of questioning anymore."

The meal proceeded silently a bit longer, until Peony pushed her half-eaten meal away. That got Hayma's attention. "Daw Peony? Did kya ma make a mistake in the proportions?"

"No, no it's delicious, Hayma. It's just the wind changed. Our orchard sub-station storage buildings are being stripped down, painted and varnished to keep the wood safe, and I can smell the stripper and varnish from here. I told you I was sensitive," Peony said.

Beatrix stood up slowly and nodded to Hayma. "Ma'am, that was some deliciously prepared food. You have a real talent. Mr. Seedcache... my election is nowhere near as in question as you think, I can assure you."

"We'll see, Sheriff..."

"Buck, let's head back to Bunnyburrow for the day."

"R-right, Sheriff," Buck said, standing up awkwardly and giving another big smile to Hayma. "Ma'am, it was a real pleasure to know you and to taste your cooking. Are you very familiar with the Tri-Burrows? I'd be happy to be your guide."

"Deputy, please leave off disturbing my maid. She has work to do and has no time for your sloppy degeneracy. If she needs to learn about the location I can provide her with guide books."

Buck's furious response was cut off by Beatrix pulling him away and down the path around the manor. "No good would come of you treating him the way he deserves, Deputy. You like her, she probably was charmed by what you did and it sounds like you picked up on plenty from here."

"It was strange. She said that Mr. Seedcache has a lot of visitors who listen to him talk, and that he used to have visitors from Zootopia who scared Peony, or at least Peony told her that but that was before her time. She said that one of them brings over fresh produce that he doesn't pay for. He doesn't pay her as much because he feeds her; can we run him in?"

"If only it were that simple, Deputy," Beatrix sadly said.

"She also said something unusual. She said that Mr. Seedcache wants Peony to stay with her own sort. Ermintrude's a gnawing critter, and her family is rich as a bowing harvest. Can't get much more _her sort_ than that. Unless..."

"Varnish and paint stripper. He's got some things that burn well. And he gives talks, and has some scary folks from Zootopia that don't come around anymore. I have to wonder what he talks about. He really didn't want you with that muntjac doe. Seems significant."

"But just... there aren't Purists anymore. There just aren't."

"Eyes open, ears up, deputy. Eyes open, ears up.

 **Author's Notes**

 **Beatrix's Mug-** Given what her boyfriend is, this is hardly a surprise. But, a rubber-hose inkblot black-and-white cartoon wolf? Seems she's a fan of indie video games, she's got a Boris the Wolf mug from _Bendy and the Ink Machine_.

 **Chomper-Romper-** Like many terms that have been in play for ages, what it means and what it means to others differs based on who uses it, how, when and with what amount of vehemence. It might be compared to old terms for various races and classes, which can be used by old people innocently or younger folks intent on abuse. It might even be used by those in that category as a kind of solidarity. In this context, Deputy Buck is falling into the category of "innocently insensitive" by just using a term that he was probably taught by family.

 **Rimpssie Specsson-** Here's another Niko reference. The most charming couple in that movie was Rimppa/Specs and Essie, a moss-eating wolf and a lost poodle. I split the difference and made him a curl-coated wolf. Throw his supposed parents' Finnish language names into a blender for a first name and his father's English dub name for his patronymic and here you have a sweetheart of a wolf.


	8. Finding Threads

I do not own Zootopia, that belongs to Disney. This a fan work made solely for the sake of amusement.

 **Interspecies Relationship Support Network- Tri-Burrow Chapter**

 **Chapter Eight: Finding Threads**

 **By: Gabriel LaVedier**

"I never got those citrons. He really is a mean mammal," Beatrix huffed, over a plate of lohikeitto and a side of mashed potatoes and a smaller plate of fried quenelle. "I wish I could arrest mammals for being unpleasant."

"Ah, yes, yes... the stresses of a highly important occupation," Specs Rimppasson said with a small laugh. Everyone was gathered inside a very nicely decorated cave-home, carved from a very large erratic that was located out by the border of Predburrow, but still well within Bunnyburrow environs. The whole place, though a modest home, was large enough to suit the wolves that lived in it, as it also contained an extensive subterranean area, all of it designed after traditional Bunnyburrow internal aesthetics, with wolf motifs in place of the rabbit ones.

"Father... you don't need to explain she has an important job every time," Rimppsie said, ears folded to hide the pink.

"Oh don't listen to him, he's not certain about how things go," Specs said with a deep chuckle. While he was somewhat skinny, like his son, he was long and tall, with tight muscles shifting under his pelt.

"He had his reason, he doesn't want his beautiful, extremely large and powerful poro to be bothered. He looks out for her very well," Essie, Rimppsie's mother, said with a light laugh. Like her husband, she was a strong tall wolf, her curly ginger coat showing where Rimppsie's pinkish strawberry blonde curled coat came from.

"I'm so sorry, kultaseni..." Rimppsie mumbled, ears flattened down.

"Oh my rakastettu, they're not going to chase me away," Beatrix said softly, reaching out to softly and lovingly rub him between the ears. "Wolves are not so different from reindeer. Bucks and does have a tremendous internal strength and require strength from both sides. I think its because the does grow antlers just as large and impressive as the bucks."

"So, you're working on a big case? I didn't think this place had such problems," one of the other wolves at the table said. There were three others besides Specs and Essie, two males and a female, all dark brown to rusty, facial features showing a family resemblance. The middle wolf, the darkest brown, had been the one to speak.

"As I have to tell my deputy over and over, we must never assume a peaceful place is always going to be peaceful. If you keep on your hooves you don't get surprised."

"But really... this isn't Zootopia, with gangs and political schemers like the ones they arrested not long ago. Politics are so much simpler here, crime is so much simpler here," the rusty-toned female wolf noted. "What could have happened?"

Beatrix had had practice dealing with ignorant city folk that dealt with her like an unsophisticated bumpkin. She just kept rubbing between Rimppsie's ears. "We have our own kind of crimes, some of them quite bad. Right now I'm investigating an arson. Some insane monster burned down a barn filled with members of the Interspecies Relationship Support Network having a meeting. Someone wanted to burn out a load of mammals just like your nephew, just like me. So I've got a lot of stress and seriousness right now."

Silence reigned at the table for a while, forks and spoons scraping on the plates, soft chewing sounds mingling with the soft shush of Rimppsie's wagging tail. Beatrix kept rubbing his head, a small smile on her lips when they were closed.

Rimppsie's aunt finally spoke up, voice a little softer. "Terrible things are all over. They arrested those Meadowlands folks who were against predators. They had a whole evil group that did all that Nighthowler business because of their hate for predators."

"Hate... that seems to be what it's all about," Beatrix muttered. "Hate and fear, twisted together. And people fear that hate... Peony..." A realization dawned on Beatrix slowly. "I think I know why she was so afraid of her father's wrath."

"What's that, dear?" Essie asked.

"I figured something out. Excuse my rudeness, but I need to move this case along..." Beatrix pulled out her cell phone and quickly hit her contacts.

" _Sheriff? What's going on? I was just having dinner."_

"Same here, with Rimppsie's relatives. I need you to do something we forgot to do today. You need to head out to find Travis Dreyson and get all those hate messages he has, because I think if we look at them we can tell about how many are doing it."

" _Are we going to be working all night? I mean, I'm settled in..."_

"No, not at all. I'm spending the night with Rimppsie, and I assume you're going to think nice thoughts about that muntjac doe. I just need you to get them and bring them to the office tomorrow morning."

" _Oh! Uh... well... th-that nice Miss Sanda was very sweet, and she's worth thinking about..."_

"Not judging, Deputy. She's a sweet and unique figure. Just get that done. And be prepared to do some fine mental work, it'll help us out immensely."

" _Right, right. I'll get them, and tomorrow... well, I think I like that better than driving around talking to folks. Unless we have to go back to the Seedcache property. I think I could stand that."_

Beatrix chuckled softly. "Have a good night, Deputy." She hung up and turned back to her meal, noticing that Rimppsie was flat-eared from hiding his reddened ears, and that his family were all looking slightly away. "I'm not ashamed. You want me to love him? I love him as much as I can. No need for skaldic ballads or heirlooms. Just pick if you want a Convoker or a Fif to do the whole thing."

"Night, Sheriff..." Buck said, hanging up the phone and sighing. He looked down at his plate, loaded down with leafy greens, but also a few lumps of fried tuna. He'd made a dent in the fish, while mostly downing the leaves. "It's not so bad. Should get used to it. I do wanna see her more..."

After finishing the leaves and much of the fish he rose from the table and looked around his place. He was one of those that lived in a wired-up cabin, separated into a small bedroom and mostly open space. As he understood it, the city folk called his kind of space a 'loft' more or less, and that it was trendy. He never really thought of himself as trendy. His décor was simple, all wood and plastic; about the only decorations were pin-up posters of deer models, along with a warthog openly brandishing her tusks.

He still had on his uniform pants, but was only in his white undershirt, which led him to throw on his uniform jacket and head out the door after grabbing his keys. Outside, his cabin was also plain, still with the sealed wood's natural colors, his yard mostly just grown with bushes beside the stone path to the dirt road that ran in front of the line of cabins that made up the sort of rural 'neighborhood' in which he lived.

Lacking access to the department car, he was required to use his own personal form of transportation. At the end of his walkway, on the other side of the opening formed by the line of bushes from his mailbox, sat a faded but still highly serviceable Bombo Antilope, with a helmet in a waterproof bag attached to the side.

Putting on the helmet was always a delicate thing. As with most helmets for the antlered there was a special construction of the top for the specific antler type. Being a roebuck he had two simple slotted openings which were covered by custom-fitted mini-helmet sheaths that fit over his antlers and snapped to the helmet itself. His antlers were small enough. He didn't need an accident shaving them down.

It took a few pumps to get the engine started but soon enough it was puttering away, and he took off down the dirt road. As he went along he realized he had two different places he could go. The Dreyson homestead, or the home over the business. He was close enough to both to make any difference a wash. He made his decision and made the turnoff for the main drag, to head for the business.

As could be expected from a rural area, there wasn't much in the way of a nightlife, at least in the center of Bunnyburrow. Most entertainment took place in the woods or private residences. But there was still the Vogue Bijou, and it maintained a nocturnal screening schedule. There were folks in line at the ticket office, who gave him looks as he passed by on the puttering little scooter.

Thankfully for the Deputy, there were lights on upstairs when he reached the **Dreyson and Manchas** office front. It was even on the right side to be Travis and Ermintrude. He made his way up the stairs, helmet on, as getting it off was more trouble than it was worth for a quick visit. He knocked firmly on the door and called out, "Mr. and Mrs. Dreyson! Deputy Roeberts. The Sheriff wants me to talk to you."

It took a moment before the door opened up, revealing both Travis and Ermintrude in hastily-put-on nightclothes. "Deputy. This is... sort of a surprise," Travis said with a tired chuckle.

"It was kind of a surprise for me too. Sorry to interrupt your... night. But the Sheriff's at dinner with her boyfriend... never knew she even had one. A wolf, even... and she had a thought. She wanted me to pick up all those hate messages you had, because she thinks she can tell how many folks there might be. And... that might help something. I'm sure she was rushed, his family was there and it was probably awkward, her on the phone and all."

"Lot of surprises in one statement," Travis said with a brush of a paw over his head. "Let me go get those for you, anything to help the investigation."

"Going by your reaction she told you this very recently. What changed, if I may ask?" Ermintrude queried, making conversation while Travis was gone.

"I got to the station early, and it turns out he comes in when she gets there and brings her breakfast. He gave her some fruit and cricket-flour muffins. It turns out she eats bugs and fish more than I ever expected."

Ermintrude subtly wiped a paw against her nose and softly coughed. "Ah yes. Well, some deer are like that, I've found. They're the most flexible of the prey. An admirable trait."

Buck breathed on his hand and caught a whiff of fish on his breath. "Yeah, yeah well... we went to see Mr. Seedcache and bring Peony home. His new maid is a deer named Hayma Sanda... little thing... a munt-jac or something like that. Talked really nice, and she made this delicious noodle thing. And it had shrimp and fish mixed in with the vegetables. I wasn't expecting that but it was nice."

"Oh, I hadn't heard about that. Ah, when you delivered Peony to her father did you say anything about the Network?"

"No, ma'am. The Sheriff made sure she said nothing. There was something... off about him. Fake. He's a mean mammal, like folks keep saying."

"You have no idea..." Ermintrude muttered.

"Here you are, Deputy. I really hope you can do something with these," Travis said, returning with a manilla envelope that bulged slightly.

"The Sheriff thinks she has an idea. I certainly hope it's a good one," Buck said, taking the folder.

"The Deputy was telling me he and the Sheriff went to take Peony back to her home," Ermintrude noted.

"What? No! If he heard about the Network..!" Travis started.

"Relax, they didn't say anything. They just ate there. Seems they have themselves a new maid. Peony never mentioned her. Some exotic deer," Ermintrude reported.

"She's got fangs," Buck added.

"A Division Child?" Travis queried.

"Nope, she said it's natural. Her kind are munt-jac, think I keep saying it right. She's really sweet, has a beautiful accent, and told me a lot about how ol' Seedcache is kind of a shady fellow, gives a lot of talks and used to host folks from Zootopia."

"Probably Purists like him..." Travis muttered.

"What? No... no, Purists don't... they..." Buck blinked slowly. "Is he really?"

"We've heard..." Ermintrude answered, drawing out her words. "Will said Peony thought he was a Purist. That's all."

"Staying with her own..." Buck mumbled. "I knew I didn't like him."

"Given how you acted at the crime scene, I'm surprised," Travis snorted.

"I was tired!" Buck snapped. "Maybe I'm not some Zootopian with a head that's all opened up, but I'm a good deputy. I may like sleeping and easy work but I know my job."

"And you like fish, apparently," Travis noted, his nose lightly twitching.

"Mr. Seedcache's maid cooked up a meal with shrimp and fish in. The deputy was... motivated to eat it," Ermintrude said with a soft laugh.

"I should go. I'll need a good night's sleep to look over all this. Though... you may have given us the answer. It wouldn't surprise me."

"But... with his own daughter inside..." Ermintrude whispered.

"He didn't know. He would have raised high holy quaking and scorching if he knew his daughter was doing more than just hanging around with you, Mrs. Dreyson. And not knowing meant he could do it."

Travis hugged Ermintrude to his side and cleared his throat. "Thank you, Deputy. Hope it helps."

"I'm sure it will. Have a good night, folks," Buck said, making his way down the steps as the door closed behind him.

o o o

"Sheriff... this is disgusting," Buck said, as he read one of the anonymous notes. "I should get hazard pay for this disgusting plop."

"I'm reading right along with you," Beatrix said, looking at one of the pages through a magnifying glass. "It makes me sick enough to throw up my lohikeitto and breakfast kippers and muffins. But our jobs are unpleasant sometimes."

The two of them were in the central Sheriff's office, at their respective desks, with several sheets of paper before them, which they were carefully poring over. Buck turned his head away, holding his stomach and tightly shutting his eyes. "What makes a mammal do something like this? I told you, this is a mammal that should be strapped down and in a jacket at Imboca Bay."

"Oh you're wrong, but only in your guess about numbers," Beatrix commented. "It's clear we're dealing with more than one hateful savage."

"How's that, Sheriff? Doesn't seem that different to me. The writing seems the same, and it's all sick. Maybe if I had a glass like you it might help but... shouldn't the lab have these?"

"It's been passed through too many mammals without preservation to be of any good to a lab. But we can look at the content and the way it's been written."

"Not quite my specialty there, Sheriff," Buck grumbled, turning the message in his grip, examining it in as fine a detail as he could. "All looks the same to me."

"That's the thing. It's all very regular. You'd think that would mean the same mammal was using the same printer. But if you can stomach them long enough, the messages are unique. Different levels of education, because of how fancy they get with words. Different kinds of images they get with the things they mention. Different focus on why it's wrong. It looks like a group got together and wrote these things out, sending them separately but with a bland, regular computer printout. Did you ever ever read Agatha Murine's _Murder on the Boreal Express_?"

"Can't say I did, but I watched the movie once. That was something."

"Think of it like that. If everyone performs one act, and assuming there's no slick scientists to give a real answer, no one can tell who did what. You can't arrest everyone. A crime has one perpetrator, but the water gets muddy when it comes to details like which act was the killing act or was just the icing on the murderous cake. No handwriting to match, everyone was there but no one will have seen anything, and they probably delivered different messages."

"Those slick savages," Buck snorted, reading two differing notes and really comparing the wording. "This one here... it says _stay with your own sort_. And here, something about propriety. Most folks say _kind_. Mr. Seedcache says sort, according to Hayma, and he complained about propriety when he talked about the network."

"I think we both knew that was the case. Rimppsie's family put some interesting things forward. They were the ones that reminded me about these things. But they also reminded me about the Nighthowler incident, and how some of the ones involved were arrested recently, after they thought they got away with it. Pred-haters, who went on the attack. Just the types to link up with a purist."

"Kind of a leap... but I hate how much sense it makes. Even so though, what does it mean? Why would that make him act now that they're arrested? And would he really risk his money and power?"

"He gives talks, probably passing on his poison to like-minded mammals. It's like an evil reflection of the Network, and that's worrying me. I have to keep the peace in the Burrows, and I can't have arsonist purists running around in public and trying to burn mammals alive. We gotta break the back of this absolutely and as soon as possible," Beatrix said, slamming a hoof down on her desk.

"I wish this wasn't a thing. I want the Burrows I remember, back before I knew all this..." Buck sighed.

"You do strike me as a very old fashioned buck, though I know that's just how you were raised and you think a little more like everyone else and less like Old Seedcache."

"Can't help it. I didn't know any other words except the ones nana and pops taught me. They wanted me to be a good buck but didn't know any better. They never went anywhere. You know they're from Podunk and just did their best after the accident."

"I understand, deputy. But you... you do kind of... give off a certain impression..." Beatrix said, slowly looking Buck up and down.

"Uh... Sheriff? What are you getting at?"

"I don't mean to insult you, but you could very well pass yourself off as someone Mr. Seedcache could believe was friendly to his aims."

"That... uh... I know you didn't mean it but it was kind of an insult. I'm nothing like that cold, fake purist."

"Just a fact, deputy. Your grandparents raised you right, but left a few little sticking points in your speech and thinking. It happens! Big Daddy Dreyson had problems with burrowers, and Stu Hopps was famous for being down on predators, especially foxes. Most of the family was, at least a little. But other mammals know that image of you. They don't know you're not what you sound like. And that might be to our advantage."

"I don't know where this is going, but I'm getting a little shiver in the nape region. What are you trying to say, Sheriff? That mistake folks make about me is good because..?"

"Because we need to know what that Leonard Seedcache talks about and who he talks to. We need to know his crowd and just how much poison he's spitting. And if he asks them to do things, like that Dawn Bellwether, or her father they just sent up the river. I know this is asking a lot, but I need you to call him, ask him when he's speaking next. Maybe ask Peony who those Zootopians were that came around."

Buck stared down, through the notes in his grip, contemplating things. "Undercover. Like a Jack Savage movie. There's even gonna be a beautiful, exotic lady in there. If it'll help the case..."

"It certainly will," Beatrix said, pulling out her phone and working on it for a short while. "I'm getting the master directory up. I'm going to give you his public number. Call him, tell him any story you want. Find out when, find out what you need to do to get in. You'll be a private citizen there; we don't have a warrant and you're there by his invitation. Try to find out what you can but be careful."

Buck took the number after Beatrix passed it along, and called from the phone on his desk. "Mr. Seedcache? This is Buck Roeberts, from the Sheriff's department."

" _Oh yes, I recall. You had some... fascinating manners, and you were very impressed with my new maid. What can I do for you, Deputy? More pointless bothering about irrelevant items?"_

"Uh, no sir. The thing is... I'm calling you on my own. See, I kind of understand your feeling, so far as I've heard about it. And I wondered about hearing more about it."

" _My feeling? I'm sure I don't know what you mean."_

"It comes up around the Burrows. Mean ol' Seedcache, always telling folks to stay with their sort. But I was raised like that. I was raised the old fashioned way, never did much grow any appreciation for chomper-rompers and other folks."

" _Mmm, well... I will admit to a certain degree of... reluctance, let us say, to certain so-called and alleged 'progressive' ideals. But I'm surprised, given how you seemed a bit... degenerated around my maid."_

Buck bit back a hateful stream of invective, taking a deep breath before answering. "The sheriff was right there. Takes a bit of acting to make it look like I'm on board with the things she asks. I had to ask questions, and being friendly is how it works out in the Burrows."

" _The appearance of mild, good-natured conformity to diseased ideals is a slippery slope, but sadly effective. Yes, I understand, deputy, it was just a hazard of the job."_

"While I was getting information out of her, your maid mentioned you have folks over to hear you speak, and that you had Zootopians come over to give speeches too. I was curious about that."

" _She seems to talk too much. But it's true, deputy. I have a core of right-thinking individuals that enjoy hearing my speeches and can be counted on to be loyal to propriety. Curiosity is a very important thing, it can bring folk to learning about very important things. If you can compose yourself properly and act like a proper gentlemammal I'll be giving a talk tomorrow. Come around noon, a fitting meal will be provided, followed by drinks during the lecture."_

"Right. Around noon. I understand."

" _And deputy... I extend this kind of invitation with great meaning. It says that I believe you may have the capacity to understand and that you exhibit attitudes and actions I think make you one with the ideals I espouse. Don't disappoint me with any more... acts of imitation. The sheriff won't be there. Just us, mammals who think like you. Act correctly, or don't bother returning."_ The call died with a firm, willful click.

"I think he just insulted me, saying I think like him and his little gang."

"That's what he needs to keep thinking. Don't let anything get out of control. Go in, ask discreet questions, get out without getting anyone suspicious. It's asking a lot, but it has to get done."

"Never thought it would come to this. This is the Burrows. It just doesn't happen here..."

 **Author's Notes**

 **Bombo Antilope-** I think it's funny. Bombo is Italian for Bumblebee, as a contrast with Vespa, which means Wasp. Antilope is, naturally, Italian for Antelope, which evokes two different images for me. One is an old space freighter, a key part of the song "Some kind of Hero" by Leslie Fish; and the app game _Dragon Blaze_. There, one of the legendary characters rides on an antelope and, in an alternate costume, is on a little Vespa-style scooter marked with an antelope decoration


	9. The Facts of the Matter

I do not own Zootopia, that belongs to Disney. This a fan work made solely for the sake of amusement.

 **Interspecies Relationship Support Network- Tri-Burrow Chapter**

 **Chapter Nine: The Facts of the Matter**

 **By: Gabriel LaVedier**

"I don't know if it's right to wear the clothes I go to cathedral in for something like this," Buck said, as he stood in the Sheriff's office. He was done up in his best suit, with pressed black slacks, a white shirt with a starched collar, a skinny black tie and a single-breasted black coat. His horns had even been polished and waxed for the occasion. "He's a crazy purist, and the other folks are disgusting thugs. Probably a criminal element we were never aware of."

"Sadly, Deputy, I think you'll find they're upstanding, respectable members of society, hiding in plain sight, smiling and laughing in public so no one suspects a thing," Beatrix sighed, looking him over. "This isn't Zootopia and it certainly isn't SI7, so don't think of getting a laser blazer, an electronic mosquito or even a wire. You can record on your phone if you like, we're one-party consent here, too. But otherwise, it's down to your memory."

"I don't know if I'm gonna want to remember what that savage says. I suppose I need to remember when the judge needs to know how long to put him behind bars. I hope he doesn't lay it on too thick, I'm not an actor, I can't pretend to be able to take it. I don't want to vomit in the middle of his house, no matter how appropriate it would be," Buck said, rubbing his stomach.

"Antler-up, Deputy. You may not be an elk or moose but you've still got some pride, no matter what. You're strong enough to take this on."

Buck reflexively reached up to touch his polished antlers, letting his hoof caps tap over the few tines he had. "Thanks, Sheriff. This is a just too crazy. This isn't what the Burrows is all about. Half the time I think I'm gonna wake up, roll out of bed and go to a normal day at work."

"This **is** a normal day at work for us. Like it or not, cops of any kind encounter mammals at their worst sometimes. And we work hard because we want to make life better and safer for mammals and **that** helps them get to their best."

Buck nodded, stroking his antlers again and looking toward the door. "Do I take the car or go on my little Bombo? It's kind of a trip."

"It might look suspicious if I let you take the car while you're out of uniform. As odd as it looks, you'll have to go there on the scooter. Just accept they'll look at you oddly. You hate Seedcache anyhow, no need to try and impress him."

"But won't that make him think I'm just some yokel?"

"If it was a big-piped Bristleback, yes. But as far as I know, anything like a Bombo says _I'm a young, hip Zootopian, and I'm probably in university for something non-science_. It makes you look pretentious, so just don't let on it really means you were on a budget and liked the old Sean Coneyry Jack Savage movies set in locales where those were common."

"Here I go, undercover. SI7 Buck Roeberts, Agent Double Natural," Buck said, sliding on a pair of mirrored shades before walking out the door. The station was little more than a cheerfully designed extra-large cabin, like much of Bunnyburrow, the architecture filled with rabbit motifs, though the Sheriff had added a few runic touches of her own, some reindeer heads and, now that he knew to look, Buck could detect subtle wolf designs within the runes and the reindeer designs.

The parking lot in front of the station would have been accused of egotism by describing itself as such. It was a cracked asphalt patch holding three vehicles. The department car, the Sheriff's imported older model SAR Tunturi with its odd mix of compact boxiness and curved designs in the lines, and Buck's own Antilope. Buck settled his helmet on his head without any nervousness, and climbed onto the vehicle with confidence. He had things down.

The top speed on his scooter wasn't exactly like lightning but the zippy little thing performed well enough. After topping off at the Concho, the gas station on the way into Squirrelburrow, he made his way down the familiar dirt road, the knot in his stomach starting to twist. His earlier confidence evaporated as he came closer and closer. He could almost feel the bilious evil that Leonard Seedcache radiated.

By the time he reached the entrance to the property he didn't want to go through the gate. He had, in his least open moments, said and thought some stupid things, like his instant accusations against Travis caused by fatigue and a need to make things quick and easy. That was his bottom. Staring up the drive was staring into what really constituted a depth.

"I'm a good mammal," Buck whispered to himself as he revved the scooter up the way. "I'm not afraid of you, Seedcache. I can do this."

Buck noted that a few other cars, of different sizes, were already parked in front of the manor. It was likely, given the sizes involved, they wouldn't be in the main house. The place **was** much like the Dreyson manor, if slightly smaller and less impressively constructed. Maybe they'd even be in one of those stations they were stripping and sealing. An evil monster like Seedcache was the type to use things for very improper activities.

"Deputy, welcome," Leonard said with a smarmy smile, a cold contempt in his eyes. "What an... interesting choice of conveyance. It's very metropolitan. I hadn't figured you for the type."

"I'm full of surprises," Buck said, keeping his gaze fixed on Leonard, keeping his nerve. "Where are we meeting?"

"No mammal is ever a surprise. We all fall into our patterns. How superior or inferior they are come out sooner or later," Leonard huffed. "Head into the orchard, a light lunch is served. I didn't have all the folks I wanted but some were required to keep up appearances. Tragic that social pantomimes prevent the edification of folk but that's the reality. I'm sure you'll find the fare more fitting to your taxonomic class, and I'm certain this time my maid will provide no distraction, given the so-called progressive Sheriff is no longer monitoring you."

The sheer frigidity. The chilly hate, the bile, the condescension dripping from every word. It made a hot gorge rise in the back of Buck's throat, and sent a little surge of anger in him. But he tamped it all down with an easy smile. "Absolutely right, sir. I'll be acting much more, uh, properly."

"See that you do. I'll be out there shortly. Oh, and a good suit always proves a mammal's worth, even if they come up on a pretentious little conveyance," Leonard chuckled before turning back to his manor and going inside.

Buck shuddered in mingled disgust, disdain and unease once focus had passed from him. He slipped his helmet into his usual bag hanging from the side of the scooter and put his sunglasses inside the bag as well. Necessary when riding, but not for a formal gathering. He'd been raised just well enough to be able to fake the finer social niceties.

As indicated, the orchard had been set up with a table, much like the one around back of the manor, but the orchard setup seemed much more temporary, flimsier somehow, even if it was draped with fine linen. A small dais stood nearby, undoubtedly where Seedcache would stand and pontificate. He probably saw himself as a Fif, but he was clearly no Rebecca Cuniculus.

Other mammals were seated at the table, with whom Buck was passingly familiar. As the Sheriff had warned, he saw minor business leaders, upstanding mammals of some wealth and respectability. Most troubling, he saw Lawrence Grange, one of the Tri-Burrow Board of Supervisors members. The old rabbit was shaking paws with moneyed prey and laughing at something or another.

"Well! I think I know you," the old rabbit said, hopping up by Buck and peering at him. "Yes! Yes... young Mr. Roeberts, as I recall, you work with that... reindeer that seems to be settled into her position. Never thought I'd see an immigrant so high in power in these Burrows. At least we have fine mammals like you here to maintain native representation."

Buck could recall, if dimly, his grandfather vaguely saying something unkind about immigrants, though he had focused on immigrant predators, a sentiment he understood was also common in Zootopia. It had been once, it had been light, and it had been long ago. Hearing a Board member open up and disparage the Sheriff, for no reason, yanked the knot in his gut and sent the blood surging. "I do my best to get the job done, Mr. Grange."

"At least we have a counterbalance in you, young stag. That Sheriff is too filled with strange ideas. And with you here, well... if you join us full time, perhaps, just perhaps, you might have strong support should you discover some _generously donated_ money for a run for Sheriff. We need traditional values in law enforcement," Lawrence said with a huge, seemingly friendly, smile.

That admission of political chicanery, based around being... what? Prey-power? Prey-pride? A purist? That admission froze Buck's blood. One member of the Board was unquestionably compromised, and now he was saying he wanted a Sheriff that would act like the rest of them. "That's a ways off," Buck mumbled, noncommittally.

"Elections are always closer than you perceive, Mr. Roeberts," Lawrence intoned, suddenly dark and serious. "That reindeer will find that out to her dismay. Don't worry, a team of professionals will smooth the way. Welcome to our little company."

Buck mumbled something he hoped sounded cheerful and agreeable before moving off to let Lawrence meet with another influential figure. Thugs. He wanted hired goons, filthy criminal scum. Lowly minions under a mastermind like in crime movies and television. This was disgusting. It seemed like the folk there had a good portion of the power in some parts of the Tri-Burrows. Naturally there weren't any Predburrowers that he could see, and, of course, Big Daddy Dreyson and Stu Hopps weren't there, robbing them of true power. He knew those two would never be involved in such a thing, given a few of their childrens' choices in mates.

Eventually, Leonard arrived, with Hayma following along behind him pushing a very large cart, which clearly strained her petite frame; but she was still expected to do it. Everyone took a seat around the table, Leonard at the head. The food was served out, each set-out plate easing Hayma's burden. She offered a smile on setting the plate down in front of Buck, and it took all his self-control to hold a neutral expression, sending her away with a sad look.

He felt like scum, and hadn't even heard a thing out of Seedcache.

The lunch was somewhat like Buck expected, a competent but fairly uninspired pile of spinach and kale, with some sectioned tangerines, pomegranate arils, almonds and shredded carrots and turnips to add a little extra flavor. Hayma had done her best with what she had been given, but it was still very lacking. Appropriate for a gathering of bland purists.

Everyone had something to say, but little worth repeating, as far as Buck was concerned. It all fell on him like twisted, warped versions of things the less enlightened in his life had obliquely said in unguarded moments. It was like a fun house mirror version of the reality he knew; he looked in and a disfigured monstrosity stared back, all lopsided features and malicious intent. He was required to nod and make little noises of agreement, while he focused mainly on making his lunch stay down his stomach when they talked about intelligence distribution curves and degenerates, which included the Sheriff more than a few times.

Hayma had to stay there, picking up plates as they were finished, then distributing glasses of wine. On her second pass, Buck let his eyes dart around quickly, allowing a small smile and a nod for her, along with a sudden switch back to a stern look and a clearing of his throat. He could only hope she understood what it all meant.

When the wine had been distributed and everyone was settling in, Leonard rose from the table and stepped to the dais, the thing slowly rising a little bit, panels sliding up to give him a more imposing height. It resembled more a wooden pedestal than anything else when the mechanism had finished rising. "My friends, I raise my glass to you all. By coming here and being in solidarity you represent the best this place has to offer, the brightest, the most enlightened, the most truly concerned with our greatness and our future. Hail yourselves and feel pride within!"

Everyone returned the toast and raised their glasses high, Buck caught up slightly late, a half-hearted hail lost in the roar of the others. He drank from his glass to wash the bitterness out of his mouth from having to go along. The praise was disgusting. It was like someone proudly calling him a cannibal or Chthon.

"I have made many speeches on similar subjects, but you have heard them before. However, there are new faces here, and it's important that they understand the true reason we're all here, and why they should feel proud of their choice. It's a decision that has far-reaching implications, and marks them as a true friend to the community. Their interest in the advancement of a healthy land and healthy family lines means they believe in a true, good, pure future.

"Purity... that's the truth of this world. As was said by the ancient philosopher, each being has a place, that place is immutable, or should be taught it is so. Rulers rule, and they do so through their incorruptible golden bloodline. We've let weak, feeble and mixed mammals have a say for a long while. They drag down our community, they pollute our lives and they destroy our infinite potential for perfect and peaceful communities of absolutely immaculate lives.

"I don't know how many of you remember The Curve, the absolute measure of intelligence and potential. There are many in the middle, with few at either the high or low end. That intelligence is the sole factor of success. We're all smart mammals here. We wouldn't be here if we weren't. We represent the elite, the cognitive pinnacle, the real food chain. Intelligence is what staves off criminality and degeneracy, stops the dysgenic decline of our society.

"We already know that for all their small numbers predators represent the low side of intellect and the high side of crime. Poverty, laziness, ignorance. No one with any integrity or sense disputes any of it. But even prey can fall on the far side of The Curve. And those of purity can protect from that. They can pass on their intelligence.

"But far too many throw away their perfection. They cast their intelligent bloodlines into the mud, mixing with an inferior stock. Rulers **rule** , by blood. Intelligence is inherited and should never be adulterated. Those of superior moral and intellectual perfection must keep the blood with their equals, with their sort.

"In mixing their breeds with who knows what, they ruin any hope they have of a better future. With intelligence being heritable, they destroy their own bloodline, all for some lie they've been told by talking heads and the larger, ever-more-sick society of halfbreeds and mixes of so many types you don't know what anyone is anymore. We must hold the line. We must stop the degeneration, we must stay with known perfection.

"I have additional literature, given to me by our friends that can no longer openly participate. Sacrifices for the prey perfection cause. They will be missed for a few years. I have confidence true justice will eventually prevail, and they will be set free by a genuinely enlightened government, filled with our sorts of mammals. I know it will come. I can feel it. I have more to relate but I feel a short break is warranted," Leonard said, lowering his stand with the tap of a button near his paw.

Buck's glass was empty. It had been empty since almost the beginning of that somewhat short but horrible speech. They... they wanted purity because intelligence was passed down? He knew stupid prey, and smart predators. There wasn't anything in either that made them more likely to be smart or stupid. It was all a mess of real hate. He knew some folks were... mean... but this was beyond mean. It was crazy. Just like he said, the purists were crazy mammals, only good for being locked up in Imboca Bay.

"Mr. Seedcache... where are the... facilities for someone of my size?" Buck delicately asked, eyes darting around wildly, though not for the reason that was implied given the question.

"Though my manor is made for my sort, I do have guest facilities. I would advise, in the future, you take care of that before. It's a matter of preparation and mind over body, which the superior can manage," Leonard snorted. "Go back to the manor, to where you had lunch last time, and go back along the rear of the manor to a set-aside latrine. It's porcelain on the inside and has working water flow. Yes, even my ill-used guest facilities are most grand. Let's see that Ebenezer claim such a thing."

"It's an impressive place, yeah..." Buck said with a falling tone as he he made his way from the gathering. It might give the game away but he had every inclination to hop on his Antilope and burn rubber out of there. One more speech from Seedcache and he'd use what horns he had to ram the bigoted chipmunk repeatedly.

As indicated, in an area that hadn't been seen on the last visit Buck found a kind of wood and stone shed sort of structure, nicely designed with a rustic aesthetic that fit the location. There was an identical one behind it and attached at one edge. Opening the wooden door revealed that it was, indeed, porcelain tiled inside, like the bathrooms that were occasionally seen in the magazines about style and design. Those were the ones with tusked women on the covers, generally, and he had absorbed a lot of that kind of thing.

The floor was tiled in alternating small porcelain squares of mint green and cream white, while the walls were much larger squares of a similar scheme. There was a drain in the floor, to make cleaning easier, and very few other features. Two toilets, one for larger mammals and one for medium ones that still outsized those like Seedcache, and two sinks of similar stature. Toilet tissue was provided, as well as a rather nice guest towel.

Buck slipped inside and closed the door, noting the light was provided by a few fancy sorts of extra-reflective tube skylights. Of course he'd be too cheap to pay to wire them for electricity. The lighting was sufficient but very diffuse. He pulled out his phone as he sat on the toilet and jotted down what he cared to remember from the speech and who he had seen. "Gotta snap photos... but I just wanna leave..."

A knock on the door made him fumble his phone, nearly dropping it to the ground. "Deputy?" Hayma quietly asked.

Buck sighed and stood up, opening the door a crack, "I'm not using it, I'm just..."

"You don't want to be here. I know. When you smiled, I knew. Why are you here?"

"The Sheriff wanted me here. I have to find out if Seedcache has been giving violent instructions. He's clearly doing something wrong, and if that includes giving orders..."

Hayma shook her head. "I have listened to his poisonous talk. He only fills them with anger, tells them that degenerates and the stupid are massing, that mixing their blood in any way will destroy the society. Even someone who is with a different kind of their own species, someone with a similar kind. A deer with a different deer... he says it makes for stupid offspring, that any mix is going to destroy everything and create chaos."

"What was all this about sacrifices and folks that can't be here anymore? Did that have to do with the Zootopia folks?"

"Yes, I asked Daw Peony about that. I wanted to know too. She confided in me that the ones who would come were sheep, and that at least one was one of the ones recently arrested, though she also heard her father say the name Vesper. Not the time period, the name. It was in a phone call but it had to have been him."

Buck stared off into space, slowly opening the door to step out into the day again. "Vesper Bellwether... the second most evil sheep in the city. But it wasn't him?"

"No, she said it was someone else, but couldn't recall his name. She was just certain about who it was. These mammals are not much better, so far as I can see. They're all so cold, unfriendly, even the ones that laugh and smile all the time."

"I need to get out of here. I can't stand another one of those speeches. I'll just snap a picture of the gathering, then rush off. The Sheriff will want to know about everyone there."

Hayma took out an older model cell phone, pulling up her contacts. "Can I help you? Please give me your number and I can send you any other pictures that I get. It's an old model but it works."

Buck helpfully typed in his number, brushing his hoof along Hayma's, a dark blush creeping over his ears. "I, uh, shouldn't let you do this. It's dangerous. I don't want you to get hurt..."

"It's my choice. I respect my job and my employer, but this community is so wonderful, I need to protect it," Hayma said, hugging the phone to her chest. "I'm glad I moved here."

Buck chuckled softly, flicking his ears as a rustle sounded out. A quick look didn't reveal anything, but he still pulled away and turned on his phone camera. "I'll show you around the Burrows sometime. Be safe, Hayma."

Back in the orchard, the gathering was still in mingling mode, wine getting drunk, deals seemingly being made, Seedcache discussing something with Lawrence. The muted phone camera snapped image after image, Buck only able to vaguely aim and hope that he was getting a decent shot of everything. His last few shots tracked his path up to Leonard and Lawrence, the phone coming up and being lightly shaken. "My work is never done. I'm off but the Sheriff still demanded I come in to keep working."

Leonard was about to comment, with a suspicious cant to his features, when Lawrence spoke up, loud and sudden. "That's what I suspected! She has no concept of allowing folk to enjoy their time off, but wants them to work on frivolities. I'll imagine you're still wasting time on that minor fire."

"The Sheriff gets focused on things," Buck said with a shake of his head.

"Yes... yes, well, as Mr. Grange said, the Sheriff is intent on wasting time and is tearing you away from a very important matter."

"Remember, the election is coming faster than she thinks," Lawrence said with a cheerful lilt.

"That's right, it is," Buck said, sliding his phone into his pocket and making his way back to the front of the manor. He'd made it. And he hadn't thrown up all over the place.

It took a bit of finagling to get out of the front drive, an older model, beat-up Pride Dray pickup truck partially blocking him in. Either a late arrival or he had parked without thinking about how he would get out. He had to walk himself out from around the vehicle, after slipping his helmet and shades back on.

Before he zipped off he brought the sheriff up on his phone. "That was horrifying, but I learned more than I ever wanted to. I think we found at least the source of this."

" _He wasn't the one, I can tell. It wouldn't possibly be that easy. You'd have a much cheerier tone."_

"I have so much to show you and tell you. We have a bigger problem than you figured. I'll be there as fast as I can. Ears up and eyes open indeed... we might as well have the Slashy-Smiley Killer already among us..."

o o o

"You were right, Deputy. I... Lawrence Grange really said they'd give money for you to run against me?" Later, after Buck had gotten back to the station and changed he had delivered the speech so far as he could remember, given the information Hayma had told him, and reported all that he had overheard. He also showed off the photos he had taken.

"He all but told me he was going to give me a load of money and make sure a team of mammals would ram me through into your job," Buck said, flicking through the photos. "Like I said, some big names. Of course, no Big Daddy Dreyson and no Stu Hopps, so there's no real power, but plenty of influence. I don't like there's a Board member there."

"It's just one, but one's bad enough..." Beatrix muttered. "I remember some of the things Seedcache said. When I was in university I had to take some electives, and there was a philosophy course that featured a look at an old philosophical tome that talked about lying to the population, convincing them they were magic, and their place in life was set by their blood, which was made of different classes of rock and metal. He believes in that, which falls somewhere between pathetic and terrifying, but that curve... you hear that from some of the more scientifically minded prey-arrogant types. It's about an intelligence curve that was wildly inflated in importance by those exact types."

"I've seen some smart predators, and I've seen some dumb as a stump prey. All preds aren't Old Tod Grey and all prey aren't Sharla Ovine."

"That was what made it so easy for the likes of Seedcache to misuse it. It's easy to sell an example of the upper area and lower area of intellect. And since there were so many reasons for predators to be left out of things... you saw how it works. He throws out a bit of fake science, some scary and provocative words, an allegedly scientific forecast of chaos and destruction, and there you have it. Instant hate, from a blunt instrument of a demagogue."

"No one's going to be making him a Fifrah and putting him in front of a congregation any time soon. They'd chuck the consecrated victus at his fool head."

"As if he'd even give it out. He'd charge folk for it," Beatrix said with a chuckle, jotting down the names of folks she could identify from the pictures.

Buck pulled the camera away when he got a text message indication, pulling up another photo from the Seedcache manor, this one of license plates, including part of the truck that had pulled up. Another came up, fuzzy shots of the gathering still going on. "She's too brave for her own good. The photos are blurry but we can confirm these plates for some of them."

"Gotta respect that doe for even bothering. Did anyone really jump out at you? Was anyone overly interested?"

"Honestly... no. Lawrence Grange was eager to get rid of you, but that's it. Only Seedcache himself talked openly about mixing lines, and was pretty up-front about how he didn't want me to even be kind to Hayma. That's some strict purism."

"Those types have strange rules. He'd probably keep apart an elk and a whitetail. And no way he'd accept one of the Dreyson boys being with a gray or a red. It's a strange little world that you're right to think ought to be buried and gone."

The two went quiet for a while, both of them writing out notes and filling in forms to later ask for a run on images, plates and criminal records. "So how's... your... wolf?"

"You're trying, Deputy, and that's what matters," Beatrix said with a chuckle. "Advancement is all anyone can ask for. Anyhow, he's fine. That dinner was tense but mostly because all of them were just throwing themselves at me, trying to butter me up. It really embarrasses Rimpssie, so I feel bad for him, but I understand it. They're trying too hard to keep me interested and involved. It's sad, on some level, but I'm charmed."

"I mean... I get it. Nana always told me that if I find a good doe, do what I need to. Learn things, go places, say the right things. I guess she was saying the same thing. That a good partner is worth a little fuss. Though maybe, just maybe, she was telling me to lift my status a little bit, like Travis Dreyson did, but with the same sense of love."

"I think we're all on the same page. Rimpssie's family wants to be very important. They're predators and immigrants, and I'm the Sheriff. I don't like him being a pawn for his family, but he chose to come to me, and I chose to be with him. They're just hoping that I'll keep loving him. Even if it's to their benefit I know, deep down, they want his happiness. They get worried or even cringe if I frown or look aside, like they're actually afraid I might leave him after all I've done. I'd rather cut off my own antlers before the natural cull than break his sweet little wolfy heart."

Buck reflexively touched his own antlers and gently rubbed one of the tines. "That's a lot of love, Sheriff..."

"If it wasn't that much I don't think I'd call it love at all," Beatrix said with a smile.

They worked in silence for a while longer, before Buck's phone sprang to life, the screen showing off Hayma's name. "I thought you were..." He started.

Cries, crashes and hissing sounds came through before Hayma cried out. _"Deputy! Buck! H-help me!"_

Buck shot out of his seat, hitting the speaker to let the sound out. "What's wrong? Where are you?"

" _I'm running down the road from Hrang's manor! One of the guests caught me taking photos! He's going to catch me!"_

"I'm on my way! Sheriff, we-!" His statement was cut off when he saw the sheriff wasn't at her desk anymore, just a scattered collection of papers. Buck rushed outside at hearing the sound of the siren, seeing Beatrix behind the wheel with the passenger door open.

"Get in now!" Beatrix shrieked, gunning the engine hard.

"Hayma! Hayma, we're on our way! Who's attacking you?"

" _I don't know! I don't know the names of them but he's- ah! No! Let me-!"_ The scuffling grew louder and the phone could be heard impacting the ground, but still transmitting sound with more static. The impacts of fighting, cries of pain, of a male and female nature, and other noises of a terrible fight came though, making Buck frown more and more.

"S-sheriff?"

"Hold onto your antlers, Deputy! I'm going to turn this under-powered junker into a rocket!" Beatrix cried, revving the Simoom into a throaty, thundering roar. She shifted hard and slammed the pedal down with so much force she bent the edge of the metal under the rubber.

The car made good time as it screamed down the dirt roads, its dodgy suspension making both cervids bounce wildly as it hit pot holes and other divots. Buck kept listening at the speaker, growing more and more worried as the sounds of a titanic fight kept coming through, without coherent words, or at least none that could be identified through the damaged phone. "You can do it, you can do it. You kick his purist grapes into juice, Hayma..."

"Positive thoughts, Deputy. Even if she can't quite hear you I'm sure she knows you're there."

The car shot down the road and crested a low hill, coming upon the scene of Hayma on the ground, with a hunched figure dashing off into the orchard on Seedcache's property after leaping the low front fence. Buck leaped out of the braking cruiser, initially raging and aiming for the fence, but turning his attention to Hayma when she let out a piteous, soft bark. "Hayma!"

Her maid attire was a mess, filthy with dirt and mud made of a mix of that dirt and blood. There were some rough tears and ragged rips that seemed to be rakes from extremely blunted claws. A lot of the damage was focused to her midsection, but her face had taken a beating as well. Her pearly tusks were stained with blood, though hers of the attacker's wasn't readily apparent. One eye was almost swollen shut, and her other eye was only intermittently open. "B-buck..."

"Hayma! Who did this? What did he look like? I'll antler the living desolation out of him!"

"Came late... he saw... was a... yone... yone..." Hayma slumped down, breathing shallowly.

Beatrix was on the car radio, screaming into the mic. "You get out here as fast as possible! I told you, it's the road right outside the Seedcache property in Squirrelburrow! I've got a deer doe beaten to unconsciousness and I need to have her in some proper paws before I go to beat the pellets out of someone! If you slow down for anything but pedestrians, a supernova or an earthquake I'll ram my antlers so far up you backside you'll be able to read the runes on the ends!"

Buck had an ear pressed to Hayma's chest, listening to her breathe and making sure her heart was still beating. "Sheriff..."

"I don't care how rural we are, we need more ambulances and something better than that big clinic. They rang Dr. Arctos, she'll be rushing there," Beatrix sighed, walking over to the two. "Voittamaton aurinko ja siunattu maa... Deputy... Buck..."

"You don't need to say it!" Buck cried out with a concluding sob. "Now I get why it's so important! I get that it can happen here! I get it..." He squeezed Hayma's body tighter. "It can happen here..."

Beatrix place a hoof on his shoulder and gave it a pat. "You gonna be okay, Buck? Need some time? I can let you go with her..."

"No! I wanna but no. I need to catch the son of a rotting pile that did this..."

They stood there in silence, ears flicking aside at the distant shriek of ambulance sirens.

o o o

There were more ways than one to get out of the Seedcache property, and no cars passed the stretch of road that had just recently been visited by an ambulance. Beatrix and Buck roared their way up the drive to the manor, siren screaming the whole way.

Buck led the way into the hastily-evacuated orchard area, the flimsy tables and chairs in disarray, with Leonard Seedcache trying to make everything look as clean and normal as possible.

" **You wretched son of a Chthon I'll tear your sun-cursed head off and shove it right where the earth won't kiss!** " Buck bellowed, his attempted rush halted by Beatrix's powerful grasp.

"Not even close to being worth it, Deputy! If you're in prison for doing what he deserves to have happen to him you can't be there when Miss Sanda recovers. Do your job and let the courts ream him dry and in one go," Beatrix cried. "Leonard Seedcache you have a lot of questions to answer and if you try to moon-talk your way out I'll let him go and call it an accident!"

"There no need for incivility, Sheriff," Leonard said, in his most unctuous and obsequious tone. "I understand there was a small scuffle..."

"I'm going to let go, Seedcache, that wasn't a bluff, that was me telling you I think you deserve it. Now talk, you rotting pile!"

"Maintain some composure! We're all civilized prey here!" Leonard shouted. "Don't resort to predatory acts of ignorance. I knew you weren't really one of us, with your pretentious little scooter and tacky sunglasses, not to mention your dysgenic degeneracy. There are roe does in the area, stay with them."

"I could rip you apart with my bare hooves! Just let me, Sheriff!"

Beatrix pulled her grip tighter, body trembling. "Now's the exact wrong time to keep pretending you're a superior creature. You tell us which of your guests assaulted Miss Sanda right now or else."

"Threats. Violence. Insanity and stupidity. You're clearly on the short side of The Curve. Hardly surprising of an immigrant and a Chomper-Romper," Leonard spat.

Beatrix had a choice to make in that moment. Nearly every fiber of her being was screaming to pull her club from her belt and _accidentally_ beat the bigoted chipmunk to death for resisting arrest or refusing to yield or littering, something. That last little shred of self-control within her made her stop and keep her iron-tight grip on her deputy. "You are aiding and abetting a criminal, we heard a direct report from the victim prior to her assault, the perpetrator was a late-arrival to your gathering, and the assault occurred as a direct result of your speech."

"You'll have a hard time proving that. I only deliver ideas and give speeches about scientific facts and figures, nothing at all about violence. But if someone was incidentally moved to action they reached that conclusion all on their own. I had nothing to do with any of that, I only gave them food for thought."

"You were also associating with known criminals. One of the Meadowlands Mob was here, we know that. You're a purist and a bigot, and you're refusing to name the perpetrator of a serious felony."

"One has nothing to to with the other," Leonard hissed. "My personal internal convictions are not criminal acts. And I refuse to cooperate with a corrupt government of mixed breeds and progressives. I stand by my actions and will protect the intellectual and social superiors!"

"We know about Lawrence Grange and his political chicanery. Think you can get rid of me that easily? Not a chance. You and your whole mob of purists are going to be revealed for what you are. You've lost," Beatrix huffed. "Deputy, I'm going to let go. I'm going to arrest him and we're not taking him into the woods to lose him, he's going to go in front of the judge. You said you didn't see any judges, and even if one came late the scrutiny is on them. He's not going to go free. Now, can I trust you?"

Buck snorted but sharply nodded his head. "Yes, Sheriff. I'll keep it legal."

Beatrix released her arms and went for her belt, picking from her supply of cuffs to get out the ones sized for Leonard's stature. "Leonard Seedcache, you're under arrest for aiding and abetting the escape of a suspect in the assault of Hayma Sanda, concealing the identity of an assault suspect and conspiracy to circumvent the law. You have the right to maintain your silence and free speaking will negate the right against self-incrimination. You have the right to legal representation of your own choosing or one appointed by the state prior to questioning. Do you understand these rights?"

"Of course, I'm a pure-blooded mammal, with my intellect fully intact. I'll be released quickly and resume my life as if nothing happened."

"Not happening..." Beatrix huffed, leading Leonard along with rough shoves. "But how did he know? I've been discreet about my relationship with Rimpssie. I haven't told anyone. He told Mr. Ovine but he's been quiet as well."

"I told the Dreysons," Buck admitted. "I was still reeling, but it seemed right. They're trustworthy folk."

"I have to assume. But they're both the type to talk about those kinds of things. They wouldn't just tell anyone, but her brothers, his business partner and workers... they think they're trustworthy, but there's a traitor in their midst..."

 **Author's Notes**

 **SI7-** They would understand that as State Intelligence Division Seven, a play on Military Intelligence Division Six, MI6, the organization that James Bond works for. Implicit is that in the Jack Savage movies, he's from SI7.

 **Laser Blazer and Electronic Mosquito-** I love _Get Smart_ to this day and will make references until I die.

 **SAR Tunturi-** That stands for Suomalainen Auto Ryhmä, Finnish Auto Group, an invented company vaguely meant to evoke something like Saab or Volvo, an economy import. Tunturi means Fell, a kind of rounded-off hard-rock mountain unaffected by glaciation. The main goal in the first Niko movie was the quest to reach Santa's Fell, so this serves as a cute reference.

 **Chthon-** In this specific context, this would refer to someone who followed a sort of tradition-based elder law, neither strictly ecclesiastical, though often claiming Solaterra respectability, nor common or based on precedent. He's objecting to the idea of someone proudly asserting he's part of a heretical cult of quasi-anarchists.


	10. Pursuit

I do not own Zootopia, that belongs to Disney. This a fan work made solely for the sake of amusement.

 **Interspecies Relationship Support Network- Tri-Burrow Chapter**

 **Chapter Ten: Pursuit**

 **By: Gabriel LaVedier**

"She took a terrible beating. Once we got the maid outfit off her midsection was a mess of blunt rakes and severe tenderizing," Dr. Arctos said with a shake of her head. The Tri-Burrow Central Medical Clinic was nothing special, but was one of the more impressive structures in the county. It was reasonably sprawling, with a more Zootopian feel about it, more metal and stone, polished and sweeping. While mostly made of a large intake area with a few examination rooms and a basic but stocked lab, there were a few private rooms of different scales for longer-term patients. Hayma was laid out in one of those private rooms, an EKG beeping softly beside her, an IV drip running into her arm. Dr. Arctos was there in blue scrubs and a lab coat, checking a clipboard. "There was no internal hemorrhaging, thank the moon. She's a tough little doe. She clearly went up against something more or less her size, who worked her middle and raked with claws that lacked sharpness.

"I also did an extremely basic test on the blood on her fangs. It's clearly a different type from hers. She tagged whatever disgusting purist attacked her. If she didn't hit something vital he'll need to bandage up well. As this is the only place for medical attention for something that severe, he'll either be dead or on the run to somewhere with any kind of clinic. I called the Jack Lepus Memorial clinic at least, the only thing comparable. They know to lock him down."

Buck was bent over the bed, gently rubbing the back of Hayma's free hand. "Why's she still out, Doc?"

"The severe trauma was bad enough that the pain and shock put her out. As for why she's still out, I have her sedated because, even if there was no internal injuries of a severe nature, she's been beaten to just a step from that point. If she was awake she'd be off her head on the strongest painkillers I can give her. I know you need to ask her questions... and other things... but for now, she needs rest."

"I know it'll take time, and won't help the investigation, but send that blood to Zootopia. When we get this monster I want his DNA to put the bow on his prison sentence," Beatrix said softly.

"Understood, Sheriff. Deputy... I... I could let you stay here. It won't hurt anything..."

"No. She needs me out there finding the desolation-spawn that did this," Buck said, rising up. His uniform was still stained with blood from holding onto Hayma.

"I never got a chance to say anything in the investigation. I didn't see all that much, but I noticed that we had more heads than were on the list. That tends to happen because, even if we need the donations and dues, there's some nod and smile action going on if they do plan to join later and don't eat anything. First time is free, but that's a registered thing, some mammals need to really look it over before they join. Like... I won't assume anything, Deputy, but like you, perhaps, Sheriff."

Beatrix flicked her ears and looked directly at Dr. Arctos. "I appreciate your kind words, but that was a secret until very recently, and its revelation was an indication that someone's been telling tales, and getting them to very bad folks. How did you hear about it?"

"Oh! Es tut mir Leid, Sheriff! I didn't know. I heard it from Meine Liebchen. Jaguar. He mentioned it while we..." Dr. Arctos' ears grew pink and she looked away. "We talk much when we are very close."

"Well that checks out," Beatrix said with a grin. "We'll go talk to him and see where he heard about it."

Buck squeezed Hayma's hoof and stepped away from the bed. "Take good care of her."

"That's my job, Deputy. You have my word," Dr. Acrtos said.

The pair entered their cruiser and sat for a moment, an unspoken need to let the tension drain from them washing over them. "We know these folks. We might not have been on the best of terms but... I know to trust them. Doctor Arctos in there. Gideon Ovine. Sharla. Ermintrude. Travis Dreyson, even. Why would they even do that? None of them would work with a purist like Seedcache. He's their enemy," Buck said.

"I'm thinking it was a secondary connection. Happy folks talk about happy things and incidental ears hear that. Hiding in plain sight, just like all those terrible mammals at Seedcache's gathering."

"Let's go ruin some lives," Buck mumbled, staring languidly out the window as the cruiser drove off.

A short trip along the back roads from the clinic led back to the main drag of Bunnyburrow, Beatrix and Buck getting off at **Dreyson and Manchas** and noticing that no one was in the office upon entry but Jaguar Manchas.

He was at his desk by the front window, idly working with a graphing calculator while consulting a folder full of charts and filling in several forms spread out before him. He was in a casual polo shirt that showed off very fresh and obvious gauze wraps around both his forelimbs. A quick glance up led to a short nod. "Sheriff. Deputy. Sorry if my attention wavers but this is a complicated matter."

"Complicated, yeah... things are complicated all right... how much did that purist worm pay you? Was it worth it you filthy son of toxic rot?" Buck spat, tossing his head threateningly, waving his antlers in Jaguar's direction.

Jaguar looked up in shock, his pen sliding along the form as his mind all but failed to process the sudden accusation. "What in the world are you talking about? Purists? Those are a myth. That's crazy campfire talk like the creature of the wastes."

"The accusation's not helping," Beatrix huffed. "You may be unaware, but there's been a bit of a to-do. Dr. Arctos was called into an emergency we found while investigating the fire. Your gauze-bandaged limbs make you look superficially involved. But it's clear you're not. The rakes were shallow and blunted, not at all like what jaguar claws are, and Mr. Manchas is much bigger than Miss Sanda. I have two questions. One, what happened to you? And two, where did you hear about my personal involvement with a wolf?"

Jaguar gave a breathy, sheepish chuckle and rubbed the back of his head. "Ursula is... ferocious, but thankfully satiable. She throws all of her passion into love, and is as physical as anyone could wish for. We're predators in love. Very rarely, when the moon takes us, we need some dabs of hydrogen peroxide and loose gauze. As for that... I heard it from Travis. He mentioned it very casually, speculating about if we might see you once this is all over."

"It was gonna lead to him no matter what, him or Ermintrude," Buck quietly noted. "Mr. Manchas... Jaguar, I'm sorry I said all that. I'm incredibly on edge. I'm furious, and that might be clouding my judgment."

"Your uniform is stained with blood. I'm guessing you have a right. Did someone die?"

"A severe beating. Your lover is caring for her right now. Did you ever hear any talk about Leonard Seedcache?" Beatrix asked.

"Travis grumbled about him now and then. It's a professional thing. He's an arrogant mammal, wants to be bigger and richer than Don Dreyson, but he'll never be that. I also felt like it was something personal. I know his daughter is seeing Travis' brother-in-law. He shared a lot of things but he always hesitated in that area."

"Perhaps for the best..." Beatrix noted. "Where is everyone?"

"Travis and Gideon went to the bank to see Mr. Alces and have a conference call with the Network head and the insurance company. It's all a big mess, and they're quibbling over the details because there was so short a time between the policy purchase and the claim."

"They'd better not try and pull anything. I'll deliver my report right to them if need be. This was a criminal act that has to be covered by any halfway-decent policy. They can send in their own investigators, if they want, but the only arson involved was an act of terror."

Jaguar shook his head and got out a fresh form. "Plata Sagrada... who would want to do that to us?"

"Never you mind, you'll read about it in the paper and feel safer. Worrying now would be counterproductive," Beatrix said, taking another look around. "Well that's him... where's your intern and secretary?"

"Kenneth was here, but Miss Arctica called him to bring her food, like she does even when she's here. Travis let her stay out of work, with pay, because she's still shaken up by the fire. He may be annoyed by her strange Tundratown attitude and moon-tongued glibness, but he does treat her fairly. Kenneth has been out for a while but I expect he's there talking to her. That Sanctuary place has made him quite warm and accommodating. He reminds me of Pepper."

"Did he happen to hear Travis tell you about my relationship?"

"Well, probably. He's always around, always attentive and waiting to hop up and be useful."

"Where can we find Miss Arctica? It would be pointless to wait around here, we might as well go and try to find him there," Beatrix said.

"She lives long-term at the Cozy Cabin Residences, cabin number fifteen. Want me to give her a ring?"

"I think I'd prefer she not know we're coming. Thanks for your help, Mr. Manchas," Beatrix said with a nod of her head.

"Again, sorry. I'm still worried..." Buck added.

Jaguar looked Buck up and slowly shook his head. "You have good reason to act like that. I hope you catch him. I hope there's enough left to put in jail."

The cruiser pulled away from the storefront and moved up the main street back out into the properly rural part of the Burrow. The community was laid out with greater spread but with the same distinctions as the big city, only less overt notice. The cheaper part of the Burrow had warren homes, which were very like subterranean apartments; dreys, tree houses putting on airs; and the compressed cabin park, an enclosed space like a mobile home park, except filled with no-frills cabins. Basic, blocky, mostly unfurnished and cheap, they were small but protected against summer heat and winter cold.

They parked outside the fence and made their way into the park, noting the collection of smaller vehicles including a low-built Lisku Chernabog dual-front-wheel scooter with a swept front-plate useful as a snow plow and heavy winter tires, despite the lack of snow. "Looks like Miss Arctica is still in. She must not have bothered changing over when she came from Zootopia," Beatrix noted.

The park was very regularly ordered, long lines of cabins, sized for average-sized mammals. Each one was a fairly regular block, with a patch of dirt in front of each around the stairs up to the cabin proper. Each one had windows in the main living area and a smaller one marking there the bathroom was for each one. Though bland and plain the occupants had mostly added their own personalization, from small things like potted plants to banners, signs and plastic flowers spinning away.

Cabin fifteen was personalized with a few signs of Tundratown businesses, with their unique alphabet and all, along with a welcome mat in the same language. Beatrix was preparing to knock on the door when a flurry of sounds emerged from within. The bounce of a bed, squeaking springs, the impact of furred flesh, and deep, breathy huffs. The repetitive thumping was broken up with heavy, breathless words that just barely filtered through the door.

"Feel better? Gotta... be kind..." Kenneth still had a chipper lilt as he exerted himself.

"Belly of fish... th-third round... silver glory, Kenny! Thought... foxes didn't stop..." Sylvia yapped and barked in response to most of the impacts, hot and heavy panting coming through clearly.

"He's no purist..." Buck whispered, ears folded back and deeply pink.

"I stopped taking my pills last month," Sylvia grunted out with a plain directness. The revelation didn't change any of the tempo.

"Oh she isn't either..." Beatrix added, finally rapping solidly on the door. "Miss Arctica? Sheriff Nikostytär. I need to ask some questions of Kenneth Hopps. If he's available."

The sounds of intercourse had halted when the knocking started, and low whispers passed between the two within. In time the door opened a crack, Kenny standing just in the crack, holding a sheet against his midsection to let it drape over his personal areas. "Sheriff. I know I should be gracious and accommodating, but sometimes interpersonal conflicts come up when I really want to keep going with something. Excuse me if I get a little short. It's not the Peaceground way."

"I have no desire to interrupt your helping Miss Arctica to assuage her fears and bring her some personal happiness. But I have to ask some very important questions regarding a piece of information you picked up from your boss, Mr. Dreyson," Beatrix said, in as neutral a tone as possible.

"Sounds like the Hopps clan is getting itself a new fox. Good on you," Buck said with an awkward smile.

"Maybe sooner than later, if I'm thinking about how many times I've come to be kind to Sylvia in the last month. Only too glad," Kenny said with a smile. "What kinda information? Do you mean about you and your wolf?"

"Wolves are snobby!" Sylvia called from inside the cabin. "They still care about hierarchy matters and pack cohesion. Not that it's bad but they pay too much attention."

"Rimpssie is very soft and sweet, like a marshmallow. His family only wants to get out of their lowly status. Come to think of it, you may be right, but I find it endearing. Still, that's not the point. You heard about that from Travis, did you mention it to anyone else?"

"It slipped out. Happy news like that gets me all honey-glowing. If at all possible, which means most working days, I have lunch with my family that got jobs in Bunnyburrow proper. It's a little reduced now, there's a bit of back-acre harvesting going on, so the full-timers are still at it, meaning me, Rob and Jake. We were all at the Grease Trap, eating outside. I remember because Rob kept sneaking my fried pickles, and I offered to share but he just kept on denying it. Mammals are funny like that. Anyhow, after lunch we all went off. Jake had borrowed the truck, but left it there because we all had keys if we needed it, and we all just had a short walk to the offices or the store."

"Truck... is it an older Pride Dray? Kind of beat up and banged around?" Buck asked.

"Yup. Reliable little machine. The family has a few of them, and we borrow them as we need. Usually we carpool into town. Pretty citified, huh?" Kenny asked.

"I saw one of those at Seedcache's place. I thought I had just missed it but it must have showed up late. I have the plate but it won't do much good since we know it belongs to the Hopps family," Buck said.

"Are your brothers back at work?" Beatrix asked.

"They should be, I didn't hear about them taking another day off," Kenny said. "Now... I know I owe it to Jaguar to be at work while Mr. Dreyson is arguing with the insurance company, but Sylvia needs me..."

"I don't _need_ you, Kenny," Sylvia called, with a hard edge to her voice.

"Oh, right..." Kenny said, slightly crestfallen.

"No, I _**want**_ you so bad it hurts. Maybe that adds up to need but whatever. I want you. You're my choice to have, so let me have you some more. Sorry I can't see you off Sheriff, but I'm kind of hammered into a divot here. Kenny may look like a skinny string bean but he's got more power than a polar bear and is way more handsome."

"Can I..?" Kenny started asking.

"Go. Go. You Hoppses and foxes..." Beatrix chuckled with a shake of her head.

"Guess we head back to the main drag and hit up the Real Estate company and Weaselton's place. Hard to believe it could be a Hopps. I mean, sure, they stay with bunnies most of the time but, well, just look at Judy. And now Kenneth," Buck mumbled, playing with his phone after getting back into the cruiser.

"Ahh, you're still thinking a little too narrowly. Just because some big group has a few members that are one thing doesn't mean that the others will be the same way. They could even be the opposite. Stu and Bonnie Hopps may keep a well-run family but it's still something made of individuals. Not every one is going to be the same. Look at Judy, like you said. She broke all the rules. They were better for it, but she still broke the rules. I'm sure Stu is happy now. Maybe we won't find anything. This case has been a twisty little maze, and we could still be very far away from the solution."

Buck went wide-eyed as he finished tapping on his phone. "We're gonna be giving Stu Hopps some bad, bad news..."

"I don't like how firmly you said that. What's the bad news, Buck?"

"Hayma said something before she fell unconscious. She said 'yone'. It took a bit to figure out the spelling on it but I looked it up, trying to find it in her language. It means rabbit. She was saying the attacker was a rabbit."

Beatrix sighed and slowly nodded her head. "I was hoping it wouldn't be someone so close to the community, but that's what happens sometimes. Ears up, eyes open, and heart all full of sorrows..."

 **Author's Notes**

 **Lisku Chernabog-** 'Lisku' is one form of Liška, the Czech (and Slovak) word for Fox. It's actually a common sort of form in Slavic languages. Lisica in Croatian, Belarusian, Serbian, and Bosnian and others, Lisitsa in Bulgarian, and Lisa in Russian. Highly conserved as you can see. Chernabog is an ancient Slavic deity, best known for being part of the Fantasia segment "Night on Bald Mountain."


	11. The Confrontation

I do not own Zootopia, that belongs to Disney. This a fan work made solely for the sake of amusement.

 **Interspecies Relationship Support Network- Tri-Burrow Chapter**

 **Chapter Eleven: The Confrontation**

 **By: Gabriel LaVedier**

Beatrix and Buck pulled up to the space in front of the real estate office, a bit dejected by the approach of the potential end to their investigation. They slid out of the cruiser and stepped into the office, immediately attracting the attention of Rob Hopps, who was slowly and awkwardly pushing his janitorial cart. He was in his coveralls, and checking the trash cans of each cube he passed.

"Mr. Hopps, a moment of your time please?" Beatrix asked.

"Yeah? What is it?" Rob asked, turning toward the two. His features were just as sour as ever, though he was at least scrubbed and brushed well, put together competently.

"I hear you and your working brothers were out at lunch the other day and you happened to hear some choice information from Kenneth. Where did you go after that?"

"Why should that matter? I work very hard around here and my day is my business. I go to lunch with my family, because that's the most important thing in this world, and then I come back here to file or arrange listings or... do janitorial work because they won't hire someone full-time for it."

"Well plenty's sake, why would we? It's a temp kind of occupation. We're tidy mammals and we don't need the trash changed but twice a week or so," Pepper piped up, wandering over and giving Rob a pat on the back, making him grunt and roll his eyes.

"I'm supposed to be a real estate intern, learning the business, like dad wanted," Rob countered.

"What your father wanted was clearly communicated to me and I'm doing what he wanted," Pepper laughed. "Don't you worry. He's quite happy with what I'm doing."

Rob scoffed and winced a bit, as though being hit with a realization in the middle of his petulance. "Wait, he didn't send me to Weaselton's or Dreyson and Manchas because he knew you'd make me clean?"

Pepper laughed long, loud and high, setting her husband off on a small giggle. "Oh, that laugh... I don't need to know the joke, it must be hilarious," Zeke said, poking his head over the cubicle wall.

"You think your brothers do anything different? Jake runs those aisles like nobody's business and stocks shelves that are barely empty, while sweeping, mopping and dusting without being asked, and helping Princess out when she needs paperwork assistance. Kenneth... Kenneth has to be twins that your mother never mentioned. He picks up papers, gets the mail from the main office, gets lunch, mostly for Miss Arctica, sweeps up, vacuums, and also studies law, commerce codes and actuarial tables. Your father, well... you were a special case."

"What does that even mean? A special case? What kind of special case?" Rob huffed.

"Oh I shouldn't be saying anything..." Pepper drew out, looking aside.

"Oh say it, you might as well," Rob insisted.

"You're a remainder, dear," Pepper said gently, patting Rob softly on the arm.

Rob flinched away and hissed a bit. "No! I'm going to get married and have my own property! I can succeed, I don't need any help or pity."

"I didn't want to say it but you needed to know. It's soft work here. And, hey, if you apply yourself, you read up on housing codes and decoration guides and all of that, you can have a good job here. We're a growth area, and we all know that," Pepper said, gently.

Rob angrily turned away and pushed the cart aggressively down the aisle of the office. "I'm going to empty this and go home. I'm not a remainder..."

Pepper shook her head slowly. "I... I didn't want to..."

"He had to hear it. He would have sooner or later no matter what," Buck said, watching Rob walk away. "Surprised he never saw it. It's not subtle."

"No bunny wants to be a remainder. Of course he's going to deny it. He's taking it... tolerably well, I guess. He didn't answer any questions, but we can always see him later. We need to see his brother," Beatrix said with a sigh.

"Kenny back at the office?" Pepper asked. "He passed by on his way to Attie and Martin's place."

"Oh no, Kenny's... Kenny's pretty busy helping Miss Arctica," Buck said with folded-back ears.

"We need to see Jake. Got a few questions, just routine stuff we didn't get around to before," Beatrix explained.

"Did the Hopps bucks see something? I didn't know they were involved, not this much," Pepper mused.

"We have some very important questions about some things Kenny told him. We tried to get as much out of Rob there but... he's really very brittle," Beatrix said with a small shrug.

"Poor dear. He must realize the truth, and he just needs to get his paws under him and move up in life. Judy was supposed to be a remainder, that's what Stu figured. He was a little quick on that harvest, but he recognizes he was wrong. It's why he wanted me to ease Rob into a greater amount of responsibility, to teach him to be a more responsible rabbit and much more mature. I'm having... gradual success."

"No need to candy coat it, Mrs. O'Pogo. It's clear he's just not learning on purpose," Buck said with a nod.

"He might just have a hard time with it. Sorry for bothering your day, Mrs. O'Pogo," Beatrix said with a nod.

"A little ripple on the watering hole, Sheriff. Have a bounteous day," Pepper said with a smile.

Beatrix and Buck left the cruiser in front of the real estate office and strolled their way the few blocks up the main street out to **Weaselton's Wares** , mostly silent and contemplative as they made their way along.

"Welcome to Weaselton's Wares. We're not new, we're not improved, you know what my dad says," Princess said languidly, resting her head on her paws, elbows up on the front counter. She was in her usual showy attire, black high-cut jean shorts, an orange gingham tied-off shirt without an undershirt, and her rhinestone fish-leather platform sandals, along with a green visor perched on her head. "Hey Sheriff, Deputy."

The two nodded. "Good day, Miss Weaselton. Need to talk to your coworker if we can," Beatrix said. "Taking the counter today? That's a big move."

Princess shrugged and rolled her head to crack her neck. "Dad lets me do the front now and then. Just an extended time today." She suddenly turned toward the back and gave a sharp whistle. "Hey! Cookies-and-Cream! The Sheriff's here and she's got some questions."

A moment later Jake emerged from the back, bundled up in a heavy brown coat, thick brown pants and heavy insulated gloves. "Sheriff, what can I do for you?"

"Working the big freezer today, Jake?" Beatrix queried, pulling out her pad and pencil.

"We got our deliveries earlier. It's been kind of a mess. We were just able to do an eyeball and a nod to the truck. Now I'm counting out the frozen stuff and making sure we got everything."

"It's a big place but normally it works just fine with three, even on delivery days. If we have three," Princess noted.

"Where's your dad, Princess? I don't think I've ever seen him take anything but Blue Moons and the Lunar New Year off," Buck said.

Princess scoffed and rolled her eyes. "How long did he think he could keep _that_ up? Especially since it was just him the last couple of days. I... needed some time after, well..."

Beatrix nodded slowly, scribbling down notes. "Understandable. So he left the store to you and Jake?"

Jake chuckled lightly. "Meister Weaselton take a day off on purpose that wasn't a religious holiday? Princess managed to convince him that he had decided to go fishing so he'd have a good, active day of work out of the store. I'm pretty sure he's out there with some hard cider and a few cans of pilchards, sleeping with a straw hat over his face."

"And he deserves it," Princess said firmly. "I know others took some time off, but... I'm his daughter and he shouldn't have to work this alone."

"You do realize I'm here, right? I'm his right-paw buck," Jake noted.

"Don't make me laugh, Cookies-and-Cream," Princess snorted. "You were over at the house fluffing pillows and getting me comfortable. You ran here a few times but you were catering to me. Buttering up dad is impossible. He gives you exactly what you deserve."

"I earn everything I get," Jake huffed. "Sure, I might have to eat at home and live in a spare bedroom, but I earn my keep."

Beatrix made a small noise, flicking her eyes up to the two and then back to her notes. "We're a little off track. Jake, I need to ask you about the other day. You were at the Grease Trap, right?"

"When I don't bring something from home I join in on Kenny's little fellowship meals. I mean, I do anyway but that day I was begging a few bucks off of Kenny for fried okra and potatoes. He's always good with that for family. But it really gets to me that Rob doesn't ask when he sneaks fried pickle chips. At least I'm up-front."

"And when you were eating, did Kenny mention anything about me?" Beatrix asked, her eyes set and focused, firmly, on Jake's countenance.

"It came up in conversation as office gossip. He said Mr. Dreyson had mentioned that he had heard you were dating a wolf, wondering if you'd be joining the Network."

"Mmm, I see..." Beatrix scribbled a few more things down and nodded. "Where did you go after that?"

"Back to work," Jake answered.

"By which he means, back to my place. He got me fed, went out to lunch and came back in his own sweet time," Princess explained.

"I was hopping from place to place all day. A long lunch with my brothers isn't a crime," Jake retorted.

"You had keys to the truck you all shared, right?"

"Absolutely, it's a big help if I need to haul an order. We don't do that much but there are still some folks who call in orders if they can't get out to the shop for whatever reason," Jake said with a nod.

"Do you get out to Squirrelburrow much?" Buck asked, suddenly.

"We don't deliver that far. Not much reason to go out there often. I went to Old Seedcache's place a time or two. Mr. Weaselton wanted to try moving some of his produce but he shut me down pretty hard. He talked both my ears off about this and that economic and social model that explained why he wouldn't sell us some blighted produce. He's an odd one. But, it must be hard managing a spread like that. Dad has trouble enough managing with all of us helping."

"I get him. A single dad running a business, I get it. But he should have sold us the eclipsed fruit. It's fruit, not state secrets," Princess snorted.

"Been out there..." Beatrix mumbled.

"What's this all about? I thought you were focused on the fire?" Jake asked.

"The investigation went to all kinds of places. There were... incidents that will come out once this whole thing is over," Beatrix mumbled.

Jake squinted, and finally looked past Beatrix to Buck's uniform. "I... well... that's something I didn't expect. I guess you've come to something very big and dangerous."

"There was a fight. That's all I can say," Buck quickly stated.

"That's more than enough, Deputy," Beatrix sharply said.

Jake took off his gloves and dropped them on the counter, shedding his coat as well and revealing his normal long-sleeved uniform underneath. "I hate to do this but I have to go. I have to do something very important."

"Hey, hey, this isn't a charity, Cookies-and-Cream. What's dad paying you for?"

"Ask him about it later," Jake cryptically said, stepping out of the insulated pants and dashing out the front door.

Wordlessly, Beatrix and Buck left the shop, catching Jake driving off in one of the Hopps family trucks. "I don't know what to believe anymore..." Beatrix muttered.

"How's that, Sheriff?"

"I want to think it was a mistake, or maybe he was handling too-fresh fish earlier, but I know I saw the barest hint of blood on his fingertips, near the claws. Him? He's clearly a good one. How could he do this?"

"What? But... but he's... but..." Buck stammered.

"This doesn't make a bit of sense. He went over to Seedcache's place, for work, and he said that the old bigot was an odd one. We need to go, now."

"Where are we going?"

"There's not many places he can go, not really. If he's running we can track him down. But he might be wanting to hide out at the Hopps property. Let's... at least talk to Stu. He might know where he'd go."

o o o

"I can't believe it!" Stu shouted, punching his fist. He was meeting with the Sheriff and Deputy in the front of the Hopps property. Many Hopps children looked over at their father's shout, Bonnie gently patting his shoulders.

"Stu... calm down. You know what the doctor said," Bonnie cooed, whispering close to Stu's ear.

"Bon, they're saying one of our sons tried to burn mammals to death, and beat up a helpless doe!"

"Hayma was not helpless!" Buck insisted. "She was strong and held her own until we got there. She fanged the one that did it."

"We know one of your trucks was at the Seedcache property. We know that one of them heard from Kenneth that I have a relationship that was something of a secret, known only to a small group. That secret got to Seedcache, and his saying it revealed about the only folks that it could have been."

"Was... was Kenny involved? He's so sweet, I can't believe..." Bonnie fretted.

"Oh no, no no no... Mrs. Hopps you can be sure that Kenny was absolutely not involved. He just happened to hear the information and passed it on in conversation," Buck said with a nervous rubbing of the back of his head.

"What do you mean by that?" Bonnie asked with a tilt of her head.

"You'll find that out in a few months, just be patient," Beatrix said. "But we need to focus. One of them, Rob or Jake, is in a lot of trouble. And we need to locate them, if they happen to be on the property. Rob stormed out of work, and Jake kind of rushed off, after... an odd reaction."

"So how can we help?" Bonnie asked.

"Presumably, one or both of them are here but... you've got a spread here. Where they are is the question. Do you have any ideas?" Beatrix asked.

"Hoo, yeah... spread indeed. All the acreage, with little sub-stations for storage or processing or anything else like that. Then the outskirts of the property with woodland. The kids all like to have little spaces for hiding things or getting privacy. We could be at this for a while."

"How long it takes isn't the issue, just finding them is the important part. After that we can sort out a lot of the issues. Mr. Hopps, please give us your insight into where they might be," Beatrix said.

"Let me help you there," Bonnie chimed in. "Oh Stu's a good father, no question. But, no matter how many of them there are, I still remember what the were like, and where they loved around the farm."

"Then lead on. We just want this concluded," Beatrix sighed.

Bonnie took the lead, with Stu walking alongside her, occasionally making a stammering statement about the disbelief that one of his sons was a monstrous criminal. They went out into the farmland, active and fallow, along with the areas of general use. There were flat areas for driving or otherwise moving crops, and other places just for resting and recreating during the harvest, planting or tending. There were also wooden shacks, as on Seedcache's land, used as storage for overflow crops, tools, chemicals or anything of the kind. Bonnie had stories about each place, explaining why Rob or Jake would go there.

Coming around a stand of trees they found Jake, taking a tarp off of a small hollow in a large tree's roots. He pulled out some bloody clothes and small cans that looked like paint or something similar. Beatrix rushed forward, taser drawn, contacts clicking. "Nice and slow, Jake, put it down and just put your hands behind your back."

"Sheriff! This isn't-" He started.

"You filthy scum, I'll take your head off!" Buck snorted, his rush being stopped by Stu imposing himself in front of him.

"Hold it! He might be under arrest but he's still my son!"

"Where do we need to go, Jake? Just the general area," Beatrix whispered.

"Wh-what? Sheriff, I swear..." Jake mumbled.

"I know, I know, but just keep your head. Tell me where we need to go."

"I don't know. I only knew this place because we all used it. Judy showed us this hollow but all the later kits stopped using it. They have other hidey-holes."

"Just a direction. You have to know," Beatrix pleaded.

"March me toward the house. Dad and the deputy are making enough noise to make it clear what's going on."

"Jake Hopps, you've been found in possession of incriminating evidence in several felonious matters. I'm taking you down to the central sheriff's station for questioning," Beatrix cried loudly, leading Jake along, taking a more direct route back to the Hopps home.

Buck and Stu argued vehemently, Bonnie attempting to keep the peace between the two. As they walked along Beatrix deftly unlocked the cuffs, leaving them loosely hanging on Jake's wrists. Even though he was all but freed, and could feel the taser was no longer at his back, he walked on, head hung, ears drooping. His eyes darted side to side, examining the path they were walking.

A short nod from Jake got Beatrix to turn aside and stand in front of both Stu and Buck. Jake shook off the cuffs and made a hard dash for a low clump of bushes, where a scrabbling sound indicated someone trying to dash away while hidden. Jake made a tremendous leap and landed on the hidden figure. "You lied to me! You slimy caput! You said you got rutted up in an accident at work! Of course you were lying, you weren't in that stupid coverall!"

"Ouch! Ouch! Stop it! I'm hurt! You know I'm hurt! Get off me Jake!" Rob's voice screamed out, the pounced rabbit desperately thrashing under his brother's body.

"What in desolation is going on here?!" Stu cried. "Sheriff, I thought..."

"Oh I knew it wasn't Jake. I knew he had done something for Rob, which confused me. Now I know he didn't have the whole story," Beatrix said, separating the brothers and pulling up one of Rob's coverall sleeves, revealing non-professionally applied bandages. "He was just being a good brother."

"But the blood, you said there was blood on his claws," Buck stated.

"Have you ever heard the little puzzle about the two furstylers? You come to a little town and need a style. There are two stylists working in the only shop there. One of them is a mess of against-the-grain clips, bad gel work, uneven trimming, excess shag elsewhere. The other one is perfectly, beautifully styled, looking straight out of a magazine. Which one do you choose?"

Buck thought about it for a moment and snapped his hooves. "Oh! Oh! The first one, the mess! You can't style your own whole body, that's why there are stylists in the first place! They'd have to style each other, and the one with the perfect fur was styled by the one that looks like a mess."

"When a rabbit fights, they use mostly their paws. Miss Sanda was raked and hit in the midsection. Blunt bunny claws would be kicked in the area. All punching would be done with a completely closed fist and never use the claws on the hand. The one who did it would have absolutely no blood there. Maybe their palms from stopping the blood but not the fingertips. He'd only have it if he helped to bandage his brother up, after getting some story about the injury."

"He told me he was taking the garbage out and the big manual compressor malfunctioned," Jake spat. "I didn't question it. Working on a farm is dangerous and we all had to learn how to do some emergency aid. I cleaned him up, washed his face and bandaged his arms as best I could. I didn't even question why he wasn't dressed for work. I checked the little hiding space I knew he knew about. Those clothes, and cans of paint stripper and varnish."

"He either stole them from Leonard Seedcache or, more likely, asked to have them. If he told him what he intended to do or not is another matter, though I doubt that bigoted waste of sun would have cared. He'd be proud of him, striking against dysgenic mammals and pushing the Burrows back decades in terms of relations," Beatrix huffed out.

Stu stepped forward, his face a mask of neutrality as he regarded Rob. Even though he was taller, the other rabbit winced a little. "Dad, dad come on, you have to understand, you have to be smart, you're on the positive side of The Curve, you must-"

Stu silenced Rob with a sharp slap, never flinching as he delivered the blow. "You... I can't even begin to say what you've done. You've brought shame onto this family. Everyone's going to know what you did. You tried to murder mammals. You tried to murder your own brother. **Your brother!** "

"No! I didn't! He's not like that! He wasn't there! I heard them talking about the list of mammals. It was just all the folks I knew were ruining the Burrows, plus that stupid boss your forced me to work for. I'm not a Remainder! I'm not a Remainder!"

"You're worse," Stu huffed.

"I'm not on the list because I'm not really a member. I never registered but I came around to check it out. And... I was going to register next month," Jake said, extracting something from his pocket. It was a worn piece of paper, browned along the edges from long hours in a pocket, which formed hazy squares as it was unfolded. He moved it slowly, the paper almost seeming slightly brittle at the creases from repeated folding and unfolding. "I've worked for Meister Weaselton on around five months now. And he hasn't paid me a single, solitary cent. It's why I live and eat at home and beg money off of Kenny."

"No... no pay? I told you that card-cheating fish-ripper was no good! Dad! Do something about this!"

"Shut your mouth, Rob. Just don't..." Stu sighed.

Jake shook the paper at Rob, drawing his attention. It looked to be a crude but serviceable drawing of some item of jewelry. "What is that?" Rob asked.

"It's white gold, is what it is. White gold, with an emerald and citrine carrot, crossing a sapphire fish. It's an engagement ring, sized for the perfectly dextrous finger of the most beautiful least weasel in the world," Jake sighed.

Silence reigned, some look of surprise on the faces of Buck, Bonnie and Rob. "She... she hates you," Rob whispered. "She thinks she's better than you. She's always lounging out, always shirking work. She calls you Cookies-and-Cream."

"Not even kind of true. She works just as hard as I do. You realize there are administrative tasks, right? Meister won't be there forever. She's going to inherit the store and needs to be up on as much as possible, and be capable of doing all she can. She does stock and shelve, but in the back. She's there doing paperwork anyhow. And yes, that's what she calls me. Makes me happier and happier every time," Jake said with a slowly softening tone.

"Meister came to me when Jake applied for the job. He and Princess had been... seeing each other, overly casually. No one even knew except him. The usual line is, an engagement ring should be worth three months pay. Jake had demanded something better. He had to prove he was worth marrying. I was against it, until Jake begged me. Then, I agreed to it," Stu said.

"Princess was lone-jilling that night because she didn't know I would even go. We never went before, and she thought I wasn't interested. We're only dating and she didn't know I was planning to pop the question once I had the ring. I was in there. I saw the fear on her face. The abject, primal terror. She grabbed onto me, and I held onto her. I was just as scared, with the smoke and flames licking all around us. But we rushed out, got checked and I took her home. Meister had forbidden her to go out. She took some time to recover but she seems to have."

"All that poison Leonard Seedcache fed you, for nothing," Beatrix stated.

"I sent you over there once, to see about some produce exchanges and marketing. What in the name of Sol Invictus et Sancta Terra did that fool chipmunk put in your head?" Stu sharply asked.

"He's a purist," Buck growled.

"Like blight he is, that's just a story," Stu insisted. "Rob, tell them that's a stupid campfire legend now."

Rob hung his head, ears dropped, eyes low. "Dad, you got rid of Judy, we have a pure family..."

Bonnie suddenly sobbed, pressing in against her husband's chest. "No! No... one of my own flesh and blood, my own little kit is... he's insane..."

"M-mom, no..." Rob rasped. "It's good. It keeps us strong, keeps us smart, it makes us like kings. Rulers **rule** by their unsullied blood!"

"Let me lose him in the woods," Buck said, dark and slow.

"He's going straight to a cell," Beatrix insisted. "Rob Hopps, you're under arrest for conspiracy, attempted murder, arson, assault, battery and witness intimidation. You have the right to maintain your silence and free speaking will negate the right against self-incrimination. You have the right to legal representation of your own choosing or one appointed by the state prior to questioning."

"Sheriff..." Stu whispered, drawing Beatrix aside slowly. "Please, please... for my family... not like this, not here and with strangers."

"There's no other choice..." Beatrix insisted, further speech halted by whispers from Stu. "You... I can't..."

"Please..." Stu pleaded, tears making his eyes shine.

"This is... there's... fine. I'll do it, but if this comes back to haunt me..."

"It won't. It really won't," Stu insisted. He turned to Rob and pointed out into the distance. "Go. You go right to the train to Zootopia and you take the next one. You go there, see your sister. You may be crazy but you know she won't ask any questions. Just go, get some money from her, set up somewhere."

"Dad..."

"Now!" Stu shouted, sending Rob scampering away with all the speed he could muster.

"Sheriff! No! He..." Buck started, being silenced with a firm motion and a stern look from Beatrix, who was pointing to Stu dialing his phone.

" _Dad! What a surprise to hear from you!"_

"Judy, just listen. The next train to leave Bunnyburrow for Zootopia is going to have your brother Rob on it. Be at the station with handcuffs. Sheriff Nikostytär is just about to issue a fugitive warrant. He was under arrest at the farm but he got away. I know he's going to you, he's going to say a lot of things. Judy... it's not true. Anything he says, it's him trying to escape justice. I need you to arrest him, hold him in Zootopia until he can be sent back here for trial."

" _What did he do? The warrant is going to say it, but please, tell me it wasn't..."_

"He tried to kill a lot of mammals out here, including your brother Jake and his future fiancee Princess."

"And possibly another family member, Sylvia Arctos," Beatrix added.

"Really? The secretary over... oh, Kenneth. Really?"

"She might go down the aisle... in bounty, but yes."

" _Princess Weaselton from the general store? And what was that about Kenneth?"_

"Later, later. Yes. Your brother Rob... fell in with a bad crowd. He did a terrible thing. You'll see it on the warrant. Right now, just assume this is the Sheriff telling you this. That's how you can explain it to that angry buffalo you work for."

" _A-alright, dad. I'll get him. Will he be expecting me to be... civil?"_

"He thinks you'll at least give him some money so he can disappear into the city. Judy..."

" _I know my duty, dad. I'll get him. This... this is going to be an awkward yearly reunion. I need to go. I have to get Nick, get set up... get my head around this."_

"Do what you need to. Bye, Judy."

" _Bye dad..."_

Stu slipped his phone back into his overalls and looked up at Beatrix with moist eyes. "Even if it doesn't make sense to you... family should arrest family if that's possible. I know Judy will be firm but kind to him."

"Whether he deserves it or not," Buck muttered. "But as a fugitive he gets an extra charge. He'll be in prison for a long, long time."

Beatrix looked on the downcast eyes of the Hopps family before her and slowly nodded her head. "That he will. That he will... he earned it, and frankly... I'm glad he's going up."

"Don't mistake sadness for accepting his crime," Bonnie resolutely said. "He's still my son. I gave birth to a monster, an attempted family-murderer. He was my kit and I'll always wonder... what didn't I do for him?"

"At least know it wasn't you. It was that venomous Seedcache. He'll pay too. Him and his little group, they'll all pay," Beatrix rumbled.

"Mr. Hopps, sir," Buck said, placing a hoof on Stu's shoulder. "Have you considered politics? Lawrence Grange is about to become toxic, and we need a solid citizen to replace him on the Board of Supervisors."

"He's... oh, if he's part of this, you can bet I'll run against him! He helped someone trying to ruin my family. I'll ruin him and make it stick."

"Let's all head back. I need to quickly broadcast the fugitive warrant, and then we can rest. The tension of all of this needs to be released," Beatrix said, the whole party making their way back to the Hopps home proper.

 **Author's Notes**

 **Remainder-** A math-based family notation, something that hovers between "something you reluctantly admit like a disease" and "something that doesn't get said in polite company." Families, rabbit families especially, have them in many classes. The positive form is a Bounty Kitten, occasionally laughingly called a Bumper Child. It's a child no one expects to get married, but who will most likely take responsibility for any children that need a sitter or a permanent home, who will care for the parents and likely get the bulk of inheritance, if not control of family property. A Remainder is something else. The family write-off, the child that's probably going to be alone forever, asked to do things that never get done and probably be regarded as the one that doesn't fit in. Judy probably was a remainder, but she's married and successful, so she's out of that shadow.

 **Caput-** Reaching back to my days at Catholic school here. I took Latin for a year, for all the good it did me. The teacher did try to make it engaging and taught us, in a limited sense, some old Roman cursing. I only remember two, and one of them was Caput Caesum, literally meaning cheese head. Given they use a Latin rite at the Solaterra church in Bunnyburrow, they all have some experience with it. Jake's using the best cursing he can manage.

 **In Bounty-** Sometimes the pretext for a shotgun marriage, sometimes a point of pride for a bride, showing how eager she is to start a family, it's the very, very polite and ecclesiastical term for being pregnant while engaged.

I also wanted to note here that though I tossed in some measure of red herrings and divergent suspects this was never properly a Whodunnit. I'm terrible at mysteries even if I love them. It's closer to Columbo, which I once heard called a Howcatchem. Though my primary motivation in the end was the final confrontation. I'm extremely interested in motivations and reasons, so ultimately this all would be a Whydidit.


	12. Aftermath

I do not own Zootopia, that belongs to Disney. This a fan work made solely for the sake of amusement.

 **Interspecies Relationship Support Network- Tri-Burrow Chapter**

 **Chapter Twelve: Aftermath**

 **By: Gabriel LaVedier**

"Heave!" Some time later, the site of the old barn had been cleaned, smoothed, prepped and was being revitalized. The insurance money had been of great help, along with donations from Zootopian Network members and the wider Zootopian population who heard about the bigoted attack and the major news of a shakeup connected to news still fresh in their minds, concerning the Meadowlands mob. The whole thing had been put together by hired professionals and the Network members themselves, or family members if appropriate. Thus it was that Big Daddy Dreyson was putting his considerable bulk into hauling a line attached to one wall. "Come on, if I'm doing it y'all can! Heave!"

"Yes, Big Daddy!" All his children cried out, hauling lines alongside him.

"Don't strain yourself, dear, you might be strong, but you're not young anymore," his wife grunted, hauling a line right beside him."

"Are you alright, Mr. Marten?" Dr. Arctos asked, pulling up the back wall beside others, including Jaguar and Mr. Marten.

"I've put up barns before. Smaller ones, but I've done it. Just takes focus and stubborn dedication," he replied.

"The same warning to you, too, Martin! Don't strain yourself!" Attie cried out. She was sitting on a picnic blanket with other members of the Network, including Princess Weaselton, Sylvia, Kenneth, the Demilops and the Spikels. "That man needs to learn he doesn't get younger every day, he gets older."

"It's why we need to hire more folks on the farm," Nancy Demilop chided in her husband's direction. She was quite the striking figure, with curled-back goat horns and a dangling goatee on a wolf's head. Her whole body was a wolf's body, with shaggier fur and hoof caps at the ends of her fingers. "Maybe we can hire some of the Hopps kids."

"That's a conflict of interest. Or that's what dad likes to say," Kenneth noted, leaning casually against Sylvia, who had a very, very slight swelling of her belly.

Nancy's husband Thomas shrugged a bit and chuckled softly. He was a very white rabbit, though his eyes were a dark blue, indicating he wasn't an albino. He was a squat, thickly built rabbit, much like a younger Stu Hopps. As befit his last name his almost-comically long ears were half-lopped in the middle but mostly stood tall. "We'll have enough kids to run our little farm, we just need to give them a little time."

"Children..." Rose Spikel sighed, gently patting her hedgehog husband's cheek. The petite pig woman was resting comfortably in a loose white sundress with strawberry print all over it. "It seems cruel to say, but even if I did love him, I wish my George had left this life a little earlier. I would have loved it if I had had just one little one with you, Simon."

"Well... we did have that... time together, just once, before your Isadore was born. Nancy's brother proves children aren't always a looks-mix. We can never really know," Simon said with a soft laugh, stroking over his wife's shapely and mature form.

On another blanket, slightly away from the first group there was a little impromptu concert going on. Hayma Sanda, wearing a casual red pinafore dress and a white blouse, was cross-legged on the ground with her beautifully ornamented saung harp laid across her lap. She plucked the strings with dexterity and skill, occasionally showing off with a third-hand pluck by strumming the top or two top strings using one fang and a quick dip of her head. She was playing along with Jenny, her small harp amplified by a small wireless speaker set in front of her knees. Accompanying both of them was Bobby, who had turned his classic Catsio into an extra-large keytar which he played like a stand-up bass. He moved his right hand wildly up and down, hitting the standard keys while his left worked several custom buttons, toggles and bars on the neck which controlled sound variations, reverb, an imitation pedal sustain, and bass chords or fixed, repeated bass segments.

Watching and listening to the performance were Buck, Beatrix, Rimppsie and Peony. "Ahh, you play beautifully, Hayma. Neat little trick with your fangs there."

"Thank you very much, raeehcarr!" Hayma called, fang-plucking the strings again. "My grandmother taught me this technique. She's too old to do it anymore, and my mother doesn't play like she used to. It's up to me to carry on this tradition."

"Maybe the children will have fangs. They can carry it on," Buck mused, drawing a chuckle from Beatrix.

"You can't predict that sort of thing. You just love the children you get. Though given the prevalence, males or females, it's almost certain our children will have most impressive antlers, isn't that right, rakastettu?"

"Oh, yes, kultaseni, wolves with large antlers, the boys and girls. Or impressive bucks and does with sharp teeth. They will really enjoy fish then, right Deputy?" Rimppsie said with a hearty laugh.

"I know I know. Deer eat meat too, and that's alright. I can grow past my upbringing," Buck said with a laugh.

"It's a good thing... but not all upbringing needs growing past. Rob Hopps grew past how he was raised," Beatrix sighed.

"More like withered," Buck noted.

"Being twisted, warped and stunted is still growing. He's going to learn a lesson in Murkmoor Penitentiary. A long, painful lesson. He, Seedcache and his group can try to make something out of themselves," Beatrix said.

"Those freaks should have been locked up at Imboca Bay. They're crazy mammals," Buck snorted.

"Crazy or not, they broke the law, and they're getting what they deserve. Anyone that didn't actually commit a crime is finished, socially. However old fashioned some of the Tri-Burrows may be, those mammals are unacceptable. I don't hold out much hope for Lawrence Grange's election chances, or anyone who runs against me."

"How are you managing out there at the farm, Miss Seedcache?" Buck asked.

"Well, a few of our orchard workers quit, and have moved out of the county, and I can guess why. But we have eager helpers so we're hiring and training new ones. Will has been around, helping out. I know the management stuff but he's been doing the day-to-day stuff, the fine details I don't know. Big Daddy is glad to let him do it. We're probably going to merge the companies after we get married. It's hard to believe daddy's gone but... I always knew he wasn't a good mammal. I just thought he was a purist. It's still a lot of take in," Peony answered.

"Well, you've got Will to help, emotionally. Loved ones really help out," Beatrix said, giving Rimppsie a tight squeeze.

"More food's up, y'all!" Gideon called out, coming around the bend in the road to the property. He was carrying a large tray of pies and tarts. Beside him Sharla was carrying a tray of sandwiches and two large gelatin molds, one with vegetables floating in it, the other with shrimp and fish pieces floating in it. Behind them came Pepper and Zeke O'Pogo, both of them carrying trays of cold drinks, in bottles, cans and pitchers. "And cool drinks for all y'all when yer finished!"

"I'd imagine it's thirsty work. I'd help but I'm not that kinda rabbit," Zeke noted as he watched the walls being supported by many paws while heavy bracing screws and bolting plates were put on each corner of the put-up walls.

"You're a sight taller than Jake Hopps but he's out there helping out," Pepper said with a laugh.

"Taller but not that strong. And I'm okay with that. Besides, I'm pretty sure he's out there showing off for Princess," Zeke said.

"Well, go out there and show off for me," Pepper insisted.

"Don't gotta, I already got you down the aisle," Zeke retorted, getting a light hip-check from his wife in response.

"Well that's no excuse! You should keep impressing your wife all her life," Pepper chuckled.

"Different things impress different gals. If I keep learnin' and showin' off that I got more than custard fillin' fer brains Sharla's happy an' impressed," Gideon noted, getting his own hip-check.

"I want this for **you** , so others know just how smart I know you are, and can appreciate all that you do," Sharla chided.

"Well, it makes ya smile, too. Reason enough fer me," Gideon said with a good-natured chuckle.

"I'll take it. It keeps you acting on your smartest impulses and proving your intellect every day," Sharla chuckled.

The food and drink were laid out on a board suspended between two saw horses, paper cups put beside the pitchers of lemonade and peach fizz. Gideon started with the biggest glasses, pouring out a drink for Dr. Arctos. "Looks good, folks! Got it up right quick, too!"

"Helps when professionals put most of the frame up and construct all the walls and lay down the floors," Dr. Arctos laughed, taking a big swig of peach fizz. "All the holes were drilled, everything was ready for us to do the actual raising."

"And more insurance money can be used to rent the crane to lay down the roof, with more professionals. Then we can have a proper first meeting here, safe and secure," Jaguar added, cracking open a can of sparkling water.

"You'll be very well protected, with the Sheriff and a Deputy there to keep the peace. Isn't that right, Deputy?' Beatrix asked, strolling up and grabbing a fishy-smelling tart for herself and one for Rimppsie.

"Absolutely, sheriff! No purist or bigot is going to mess with the organization as long as I'm there," Buck said, picking up some sandwiches bulging with different kinds of cress.

Sharla cut into the big fish mold, laying a slice onto a plate with a plastic fork. "Deputy, would you like some of this? It's Gideon's family recipe for fish aspic, in mold form, with steamed shrimp and grilled trout."

"Well..." Buck looked aside at Hayma, who was smiling at him, showing off her lovely, pearly fangs. "Why not? Load me up with two slices, Hayma and I can share it under a tree."

"New discoveries and new love, it's a beautiful blessedly bountiful thing," Pepper sighed happily, pressing up good and close to Zeke's body.

Hayma cut off a small piece and ate it, chewing slowly. "Mmm, delicious Mr. Ovine. It's so flavorful, but it just melts away, with the treat of finding the fish or shrimp. Here, raeehcarr..." She cut off another portion and brought the fork up to Buck's lips.

Buck hesitated a moment but opened his mouth slowly, taking it in and chewing it thoughtfully. "Mm, that's nice, there. Good on you, Gideon. Great taste on the gelatin stuff, and those little pieces are good, too.

"You just need some patience for a good relationship. Sharing and developing, together," Zeke said, hugging Pepper tightly.

Princess dashed up to the refreshment table and snatched a can of the sparkling water, shaking it up as she approached Jake. She popped the top and sprayed the cold mist of bubbles all over his chest and face, soaking his white sleeveless shirt and splattering excess onto his knee-length cutoff jeans. "Here ya go, Cookies-and-Cream!"

"Hey! Ah! Princess! What are you doing?" Jake cried, holding his hands up, shielding his face and getting most of it onto his shirt.

"What? It's like one of those sexy soda commercials, hard-working guy getting sprayed down and all," Princess cooed, dropping the can and slipping sinuously up to Jake, wrapping her arms up under his, almost seeming to use a full nelson hold to keep herself pressed against his soaked body. She hooked her fingers onto his shoulders, her beautiful engagement ring glittering on her finger. "Besides, I need you a little clean before I come up for one of these." Her head tilted and she went in for a huge, powerful kiss. Hew jaw opened slightly, twitching a little as she held the deep lip-lock, eyes fluttering closed in bliss.

Jake wrapped his arms slowly around Princess' long, slender body, squeezing the weasel jill tightly to his lithe form. His hands slowly drifted up and down her back, tracing along her mobile spine, following along as she slowly writhed and twisted in the secure hold. He bounced on the toes of one paw, having to stretch a bit to overcome the height of her platform sandals, his other paw thumping rapidly on the ground.

They broke their kiss after a long press, mouths popping apart with a light glisten of saliva, tiny threads of gossamer connecting their lips before snapping as they moved slightly apart. "Princess..."

"Six months? I still can't believe it. Dad didn't pay you for six months?"

"I was being a little overindulgent. Custom piece or not it wasn't worth all of that. I'm sure that your dad kept whatever was left over for a down payment on the wedding, originally, or a house."

Princess chuckled softly, resting her head on Jake's shoulder. "Even so, it'll be a little small. There's not much money for that kind of thing. The Convocation Hall should be good for it but it still runs into bucks."

"Dad's paying for the wedding," Jake whispered, kissing Princess' ear after.

"What? Your dad? Why?"

Jake smiled, rubbing his nose along Princess' jawline. "Many's the time your dad walked into the back with a crate of Hopps family produce and carefully cataloged it, coming back up front a while later to see he had forgotten to stock some essentials that a growing family might require. Plenty for plenty. He told me, 'Son, a wedding is a trifle. A new family member is a new generation. I throw a few coins out and I get to harvest a pile of grandkittens. That's a deal I'd be a fool to pass up.'"

Princess dug her fingers into Jake's shoulders, holding herself tighter against his chest. They stood there, embracing, while other members of the Network regarded them with smiles as they got their refreshments.

o o o

Happytown was a pseudo-district in transition. Plans were sketchy at best regarding how to revitalize it, especially with gang presence in the location. Chief Bogo had presented a number of proposals to the City Council, drawn up by a mammal that wished to remain anonymous. The Councilor from Little Rodentia, Cecil Seedsworth, had been aggressively proposing motions to start an investigation into the viability of the proposals, but he was always brushed aside by Mayor Mousawitz, though he had had increasing support from Councilors Fanak and Tatu. Councilor Macadam was also on the fence, ready to provide a voting majority with more information.

The only policy that had gone from Bogo's suggestions, through Councilor Seedsworth and out into active policy were hard and unflinching anti-gentrification policies, that spanned the whole city. No one was being priced out of their homes and slumlords were finding themselves marched into prison cells when they tried to cut services to maintain a their profit margin at the expense of their tenants. That made housing less of a concern, allowing even those with thin budgets to at least have a place to live that was reasonably secure and livable.

Duke Weaselton lived in a small but cozy apartment block, that was somewhat built like a motel, with all the doors on the outside of the building, with solid walkways around each of the upper floors. He had the good fortune to have one of the ground-floor corner apartments, which he considered a big thing. It didn't make much sense to be so proud of a random thing, but it was something to him.

It was a lazy Asterdas afternoon, a time when Duke would normally be out hustling his questionable wares or picking up change or something equally profitable. Instead he was rolling his lithe, sinuous form around in bed, his breath heavy and quick, but slowly dropping to a more normal level. He was looking with a kind of smoldering happiness that wanted to be disbelieving in direction of the woman sharing his bed of mattress lumps and threadbare sheets.

The dingy room with scattered, very old cans of different beverages and materials for making his various huckstered wares was not the surroundings for the lady. She exuded an aura of regality. The chinchilla was a put-together marvel of perfect grooming, her incredibly dense coat fluffed to utter perfection. She had the shimmering silver tone that spoke of one of the old families, her coat's unblemished nature telling her social pedigree. Her figure was heavy and shapely, in the manner of a wealthy matron. She looked distinctly older than Duke, though merely mature and not elderly. She was on her back, eyes closed, her face looking utterly transported in post-coital bliss. Her nose twitched slightly and her long, silken-furred tail flicked occasionally during a slow, sensuous wave.

"You don't belong here, doll... I don't belong here with ya..." Duke mumbled, shutting his eyes tightly and dipping his head. A strange but familiar sensation ran through him, like little rivulets of ice tracing along his veins. Guilt. He felt guilty that he had been drinking in the sight of her. It was as though he was committing some crime just looking on her, and it was the one offense that actually struck him as wrong.

"It's my choice, Dukey. I choose to be here, I choose to be in this bed. Nothing can drag me away," She whispered, opening one eye a crack, still hazy with diminishing lust. "Look at me. I want you to look all you want. I'm here, and I'm yours. Please, don't restrict yourself. You love me. So look at me like you do."

"No other way I c'n look at ya, Muffin..." Duke admitted, with a surprisingly soft tone, his accent making the statement sound odd. His eyes opened and he once more drank in the sea of plump, silver beauty. "If I'm dreamin' jus leave me. I can't get enough."

"I'm dreaming," Muffin breathlessly said, reaching out to stroke over Duke's smooth, shimmering coat. "I can't believe I ever met someone like you. I don't want to linger on it too long, this might be a fantasy that could end."

"I'm kinda every lady's fantasy," Duke said with a smug look, turning mild, half-lidded eyes on Muffin. "They c'n think all they want. But **you** got me."

"I have you..." Muffin sighed, drawing in closer and pulling Duke into a puffy, warm embrace. "I have you, except I don't. I take the train line into Downtown then another to outside Happytown and a Zuber to your door. You visit me as often as snow falls on Sahara Square. I don't have you, Dukey, I have the illusion or you. It's only really tangible when I have your slim and powerful shoulders in my grip, when my toes are twined and grasping desperately, holding your slim hips in place like I was praying. I'm in Sanctuary every Frededas begging the great bounty of the universe that I'll wake up next to you. And I don't. I don't, Dukey, do you understand that? I don't!" Her last few words caught slightly, a hiccuping sob rolling through her and into Duke.

The ice lashed though his blood, colder and sharper than ever. Guilt was a terrible thing. Even though he hadn't been in a chamber in years he felt the sudden need to fall down on his face in the full moon's light, squeaking and moon-talking while a Convoker pronounced anathema over him, giving him a splash of bug juice and his acts of penitence. "Muffin, doll... Do ya know where ya live? Ya live in a place that has nice housing. Canyonlands. Hyenahurst in Canyonlands, even. Doll... look at me... look. At. Me."

"I've looked. Over and over. In dim light coming through frosted glass in a Tundratown hotel, through filtered sunshine at The Palm while a sandstorm howled outside the window. Under the moon on the roof of this building. What am I supposed to see that's wrong, Dukey? I just see my handsome weasel."

"Ya see what all the nice ladies see. A scruffy, seedy pred, a weasel hustlin' on the street corner, sellin' fake DVDs and cheap watches. I'm just some nice lady's naughty fantasy. Y'r kind come by, imagine what I look like without my second-paw shirt and track shorts, and walk away. I ain't a real mammal, I'm what ya want at night and don't need durin' the day. Just another hustler."

"I should walk out that door and never come back. I should leave here and never see your bent whiskers again. But I know that doing that would feel like ripping my heart out of my chest," Muffin whispered, a small tear rolling down her snout. "Is that what I am to you? A cliché? I suppose I never did anything that showed I really do care? Never made you a hot meal even if I wasn't good at it, never ate your cooking even if it was just what you had to paw? That I never held you tight when we walked out in public? Did I go away when those polar bears told me I could leave you to them? I stood in front of Mr. Big and gladly gave him account information to take any amount of money he wanted. I didn't care. He told you that I bought your life from him. And I didn't ever ask for anything. I want you to come live with me. I want you to have the nice things I can give you, good food, nice clothes, a job and a home where we can both be happy together."

He needed to go away. He had to hide under a rock like the other bugs. He had to dig in the dirt like the filthy insect he was. She didn't deserve that. He didn't deserve her. "Ya love me like this," he said, more firmly than intended. "Ya love that I'm like this, ya love me when I'm dangerous. Ya love that I'm a hard, thug ex-con. It makes ya hot f'r me, and ya'd never wanna give that up."

"You did six months, for fraud, and spent most of it faking sick to keep out of your cell," Muffin countered, squeezing him further into her puffy body, swallowing him in her generous fluff. "I understand. You've lived on your own. You're a macho rock. You don't want some rich 'chilla dressing you in fancy clothes and sweeping you off to awkward social situations, or treating you like less of a hob. I won't. I wouldn't. I know you love that independence, the thrill of being free, the danger of living on the edge, not sure if you can fund your next meal. I know it. But while you like that fear... what you dare is your life. If you lose, I lose. If you care about me, if you love me you'll understand that I'm a part of you now. I need to at least say something.

"I won't try to control you. You're my wild weasel. I could never. But I'll be open and blunt, since you live by audacity and forwardness. This life is a gamble you can't win. You can hold on, but eventually you might need Mr. Big again. You'll struggle, you'll run into the law... you'll starve. I know, I know... you're a professional. But the game doesn't end. You get older and older, my wonderful weasel. You'll falter. Are you going to make me come here one day and see them renting the apartment out already, and keep a vigil at a nameless plot of land or a section in a wall? Why can't you just see... you've found your bounty. Your peace and plenty has come to you. You had your time being desperate and scrabbling. You don't need to now..." Muffin whispered, tears streaming down her face, head buried under Duke's chin.

Duke lay there, still, arms wrapped around Muffin's puffy form. He had always pushed his own chance of failure away, robbing next week to pay for today, always thinking he could dodge and defer. Then he met her. Then he touched her. Then he kissed her, and more. Everything changed. She really did buy his life from Mr. Big. She owned his life. He had never wanted to admit but he acted supremely ungrateful in his bluster and swagger. "Ya know, doll... hustlin's not forever. I mean... I still love it, I'm still good at..."

The statement was interrupted by a pounding on the door. It didn't sound big enough to be a polar bear but it was strong enough to be a very angry mammal no matter the size. A small space of time passed before more pounding came, but no one spoke.

The third hammering at the door got Duke of of bed, slipping on his underwear and nothing else. "Hold y'r fur, I'm comin'! I got y'r money, whoever it is! I'm payin' down all my debts," he cried out, a sour expression on his face. He reached the door and yelled, "Who's there?!" As he called he looked through the peephole by climbing on a box beside the door.

He saw ears, just eartips, really. Dark-furred eartips. Rabbit eartips. "Judy Hopps! Open up right now, Weaselton!"

Duke shuffled back too fast and clumsily when the next powerful knock rang out. He made a mad dash for the bedroom and hastily crammed himself into his track shorts, getting both legs down one hole initially. He flopped and floundered, almost looking like he was going full woozle and throwing out a weasel war dance.

"Dukey! What's wrong?" Muffin cried, crawling over the bed to look down on Duke.

"It's that bunny cop that tried to get Big to ice me! Okay so I accidentally almost crushed his daughter but I needed to get away! I dunno why she's here, I ain't done anything wrong lately! Not since ya helped me. I mean I have a lot of stuff it could be but that's old news!" Duke cried, finally having gotten his shorts on. He rushed to his bedroom window and pushed it up. "I'm so sorry, doll, I gotta go. I'll be back when she's not here, promise! I promise, doll!" He flicked a couple of latches on the security bars outside the window, letting them swing out. They had been intended for emergencies and it certainly felt like one.

The shirtless weasel had hardly hit the street before he felt powerful paws on him, shoving him against the face of the building. "Did you think I would fall for a trick like that? I knew you were in there and that you'd make a run for it! I'm a professional!" Judy was not in uniform. She was dressed in her usual walking-around clothes, jeans and a pink gingham top. Her eyes were hard and her nose was twitching a mile a minute.

"Wait! Wait! You ain't in uniform! Oh sweet silver, is this a shakedown? Did Wilde put ya up to this? Oh no... did **Big** put ya up to this? Please! Please! I got it good now! Not like this! Not like this!"

"Shut it, Duke! Just shut it! This is important!" Judy shouted, shaking Duke firmly.

"Don't do it! Please, whatever it is, I'll clear it all up. I-I swear I can cover whatever he owes you!" Muffin cried, crawling from the bed and covering herself in the threadbare sheet. "Don't hurt him, please don't hurt him, Officer. He's no threat to you!"

Judy flicked her eyes up to Muffin and snorted. "What's this? Scamming some rich lady to get her to pay off your debts? That's low even for you."

Muffin scoffed and stuck her head out of the window, almost pressing her face against Judy's. "How presumptuous! I am his lover by my will. He's no gigolo, and I'm no naïve and swooning society matron taken for a ride. I love him and will do anything to keep him safe. I do have some connections, Officer. This is highly irregular and your superiors will hear about it. You'll regret this immensely."

Judy stared deeply into Muffin's eyes for a moment before she cracked a smile. "Oh she's fiesty. I never would have predicted, but it looks like some things run in families." She extended a paw to the chinchilla and smiled. "Judy Wilde-Hopps, ZPD."

Muffin blinked slowly, not sure how to parse the change in attitude. She took the paw slowly, giving it a limp shake. "M-Muffin Lanige, of the Canyonland Laniges, Hyenahurst."

Judy whistled. "Fancy. You really got lucky..." She turned her stern gaze on Duke again. "You know why I'm here, right?"

Duke cringed down, partially closing his eyes as though anticipating suppressant spray. "Th-the old... DVD bit? I'm out of the game..."

"Whatever it might mean, there's no getting around it. We're family," Judy firmly stated.

Silence descended, barely broken by the background noise of the city. No one moved, they hardly breathed. Duke's reply was tiny, squeaking, barely present. "Family?"

"I know you're a con and a huckster, but you have some sense of family. Your much, much better relations in Bunnyburrow must have sent you notice. Your cousin Princess is engaged to my brother, Jake. We're going to be first cousins by marriage."

It took Duke even more time to process the information, his face a mask of confusion for a moment. "Uncle Meister's kid? We don't talk much, we ain't that close because... ya know, I did a stretch in the jug. I'm dangerous."

"You did six months for fraud and I'm sure the Officer knows it," Muffin said with a shake of her head. "I understand why it would add to his pride in an odd way but he does go on about it."

"Well, least weasels have a chip on their shoulders, so Jake tells me, but that can be a good thing sometimes."

"I do love his bravado. He's such a brave hob, in his own way. It's all a front, Officer. His bravado and all is there to hide a stoic understanding of his precarious situation. He goes on when others would be crushed by the implications of his kind of life."

"Takes all kinds, I guess," Judy said with a small laugh. "So... now you know. I'll have them send you a formal invite... two of them. Dad's paying for the wedding, he can add two more places. I'd better see you at the wedding," She warned, releasing Duke and stepping away. "Miss Lanige, make something out of this fuzzy noodle, will you? There's family honor and reputation to uphold. If my brother is going to be a Weaselton the name should be respectable."

"Of course, Mrs. Wilde-Hopps. That's my intention. Dukey, say thank you to your cousin and come back inside."

"Thanks Flopsy... uh... Mrs... Wilde-Hopps," Duke awkwardly said.

"It's a start. Don't lean on it too heavily but after they go down the aisle you can throw out a 'Cousin Judy' or two. Your lovely lady friend can use them as much as she wants."

"Most generous of you, Mrs. Wilde-Hopps. I look forward to the wedding. I'll have him dressed in clothing designed for weasels and very well-oiled with _Minky Shine_ to have him looking glossy and handsome."

"Not quite my place, but a friend of a friend swears by tropical scent _Stoaty Sheen_ , which is a little cheaper but just as nice, suitable for someone you don't want to change too much."

"Ah, an excellent suggestion. My sweet Dukey is worried I'll change him. I will, but only to keep him safe and happy. Understand, your respectability is now a priority. Move in with me, let me buy you at least properly sized clothes, and allow me to help you get a job. No pressure, I just... want you there..."

Duke considered things, withering slightly under the intense gazes of the two. "Know what? Sounds great. We can pack tomorrow, you'll just need to stay overnight."

"I can wake up with you. Praise the bounteous blessings of the world, my prayers have been answered!" She leaned out of the window some more to kiss Duke on the cheek. "Come back inside. Sundas is going to be busy but it's still Asterdas, and we still have some... pysicality. Come along, Dukey."

"Be right there, doll!" Duke cried, slipping into the room and resealing the security bars, his eagerness drawing a huge laugh from Judy.

 **End Notes**

What a ride it's been. Much like the Dawn story, this series had a much different initial trajectory. Among other things, Hayma didn't exist, Buck was more of a jerk and there was no Mr. Seedcache. But, things changed and I went along with them, for the best, I think.

I have three series in the works now. I'm going to take a couple of weeks off, to rest, build up buffer chapters, and buy cover art. Then I start posting one chapter a week again, but change up from which story, to keep it spaced well and allow for the stories to get finished.

Once more, thank you So much for going on this journey with me. I hope you enjoyed it.


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